You, Me, and the War Between Us
by Mysterious Loser
Summary: Everyone has their secrets. Even Ace Attorney, Phoenix Wright…even if he doesn't know it just yet. Post Phoenix Wright—Spoilers. Almost AU to a point since it doesn't follow the storyline to "Justice For All." ON HIATUS.
1. Gasping And Grasping

**Disclaimer:** I WISH I owned Phoenix Wright. If I did, I would kidnap Edgeworth, handcuff Phoenix to myself, and keep the PW:AA series going :-D

**A/N:** So, this story takes place AFTER Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney and BEFORE Phoenix Wright: Justice For All. In fact, you could call it slightly AU because of the content presented. The story delves into Phoenix's past, all of which is just fictional concept. None of it is true. None of it. Some of the points, like Edgeworth's "suicide," while thrown in this story, are distorted from the action sequel to Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney.

Also, I know that Phoenix Wright is a court game, but the trial in this story doesn't even happen until much later. It's a Phoenix-centric story and I know that I might be pulling away from the whole concept of Phoenix Wright with this one, but _please_ give it a chance. I'll try not to disappoint.

Lastly, I hope you enjoy the story and please RnR if you get the chance.

--

**You, Me, And The War Between Us**

**--**

**Chapter One--Gasping and Grasping**

**--**

"_Objection!"_

The flats of Phoenix Wright's large hands came down hard upon his sturdy desk, causing it to shake from the force, and he pointed a stern finger at the witness. "You say that you saw the accused enter the apartment complex after one A.M., but _I_ have a report here that _clearly_ contradicts that statement!" He flashed the manila envelope in the direction of the witness. Her golden locks, which curled around her earlobes, moved alongside with the shaking of her small, startled face.

"T-That can't be right! I _saw_ him walk in right after one!" The young woman gestured to the defendant, who was mirroring the witness's horrified expression. The witness wiped a bead of sweat from her face, the thin, porcelain bracelets around her wrists clanking together and her glossed lips turning at one corner, forming an uneven frown.

"So, you're saying that the police are lying then?"

"I didn't say that at all!"

Phoenix smiled inwardly. He had her right where he wanted her. He enjoyed watching the young woman squirm under his gaze and knowing that _he_ was the reason why she was so unsettled. _I've got this case in the bag, now. All that's left is for her to confess that it was her __**cousin**__ who broke into Ann Baxter's room and killed her that night. Man…and what a winding road __**this**__ has been!_

The young attorney crossed his arms, looking at her with such a heated glare it made her recoil within the witness stand.

"Well, Ms. Summers? If you're not criticizing the police, what _are_ you doing?"

"Objection!"

Phoenix's eyes broke away from the witness and turned to the opposite side of the court room, where the residing prosecutor was hunching over his paperwork, the light from above reflecting against his thick, crooked glasses. _Nuts…I was so wrapped up in my victory dance, I forgot about him._

"The defense is badgering the witness!" Winston Payne accused, his small, beady eyes narrowing at the younger man.

"Objection sustained," the judge nodded in agreement. "Mr. Wright, please keep your personal feelings in check. I want to only hear questions and see evidence pertaining to this _case._"

Phoenix swallowed the smirk on his face. "Y-Yes, Your Honor…" From out of the corner of his eye, he could see the witness sticking her tongue out at him. _I was so close, too! If only he had given me another thirty seconds, I would've had her spilling her guts! Hmm…time to try a different tactic…_ "Either way, Ms. Summers, your testimony still contradicts this report." He pulled it out and began to read it. "It says here that the, 'record of the last card key entry was at twelve-thirty.' That's exactly _one hour_ before the murder of Ann Baxter! We've already figured out that there had been no injury done to the apartment complex itself, so in order to _access_ the gate, he would've already had to have been a _resident._ **However,** this is _not_ the case, so, therefore, someone would've had to have _given_ him a card key instead."

The witness was rubbing her arm, exposing her pink painted fingernails, and she was licking her lips. Becoming restless, she stopped abruptly, and raked her hand through her thick curls.

"Not to mention," Phoenix continued, "this is the _fourth_ murder in the last two months. A little hasty for the modern serial killer who _doesn't_ want to be caught, don't you think? That means, in this case, that he would be in a hurry. I speculate that either _he _would be on the verge of being kicked out of the apartment complexes, or the one _supplying_ the murderer with the card would be on the brink of moving. _That's_ why he would be so frantic."

"I…I…" Ms. Summers looked around the large courtroom, hoping to find _something_ that would help her out of her current situation. All she found were unforgiving faces.

"Mr. Wright!" The younger attorney was silenced and he gazed over at his opponent, the large bald spot on his head becoming blinding as Mr. Payne stepped into the light. Phoenix shielded his eyes with one arm. "You keep spouting all of these possibilities, but where is your proof!? Do you have any _proof_ that will back up all of your thoughts!?"

Back straightening and grin returning, Phoenix Wright said, "Why, Mr. Payne…Yes…Yes I do."

His smile strengthened when he saw both the witness _and_ Mr. Payne retreat into the tiny corners of their wooden boxes. The public prosecutor began to clutch furiously at his black necktie, eyes, once again, hiding within the luminous light from the ceiling above.

"W-What?"

"I was merely preparing the court for what I was about to show them," Phoenix explained, bringing a hand out to motion to all of those in the audience. "After all, this _was_ almost an unsolvable case, as _you_ mentioned in your opening statement. My job is simply to find my client, Joe Spencer, innocent." The young man's eyes were shining now, "And I believe I've done just that."

"Mr. Wright," the judge was leaning over his podium, quite interested, to see what Phoenix had found, "please, continue with your thoughts."

"Of course, Your Honor," he nodded. "As I was saying, it's impossible to enter the complexes in the first place without a cardkey. Four killings in a two month period would be too hasty _unless_ the reason was that the murderer was on the verge of losing his only access into the complexes. _Therefore,_ he'd have to kill them as quickly as possible and _without_ getting caught."

"But what of the reason of killing them in the first place?" the judge intervened.

"We already concluded that the four victims were all wealthy. They were also linked to the high executive positions of the apartment complexes. At first, it seemed that these were just burglaries gone wrong, but now I think that we can draw the conclusion that there was something more from all of this." Phoenix looked at everyone in the court to make sure they were paying attention. They were. "It was done for more than just money or obtaining a higher authority within the complexes. Even _more_ than just a serial killer's want for fame. No…The murderer was stealing other accesses from his victims' identities so that he could gain entry into other more exclusive facilities. If you remember correctly, these victims all had ties into other businesses such as accounting firms, computing networks, banks, and even glamorous hotels. Given enough time, the murderer could have gained extensive amounts of information that could put the lives of other people in jeopardy."

"So, he was after information? I see…" the judge nodded.

"Correct, Your Honor," Phoenix affirmed. _Yes! I'm on a roll!_ "Now, even though my client, Joe Spencer, was an advocate in the Anti-Specialists campaign (which, if you all can recall, was the petition to stop higher executives from taking housing for themselves from within the apartment complexes, due to increased rent and stricter regulations), I have a firm reason to believe that he is _not_ the murderer in this case and I have evidence to prove it!"

Hearing everyone gasp in surprise, the young attorney withdrew a Ziploc bag containing a bloody card within. He felt even more triumphant at the feverish look on Mr. Payne's face and the clenched fist from the witness. Phoenix held it up for all to see and then turned back to the judge.

"Your Honor, this is the bloody keycard belonging to _Ms. Summers_ that was found in the shack owned by her cousin, Maxwell Ward. I had it tested and it came back saying that the blood belonged to Ann Baxter! She was _lying_ when she said that she had turned it in the night before the murder and had moved out, claiming that my client had stolen it. If that had been _true,_ the card would've been deactivated on the spot, allowing no way for Joe Spencer to access the gate outside. _However,_ records show…" he held them up for emphasis with his other hand, "…that _this_ card was used _again_ the night after!"

"Preposterous!" Mr. Payne cried, his knuckles white from blood loss as they gripped his desk tightly. "Then how do you propose that that _card_ was able to access the other rooms!? It would be impossible!"

"The same way I'm telling _you_ it would be impossible for my client to have done the same thing! **But, **Mr. Payne, _if_ you can recall…" Phoenix waited, giving dramatic pause before continuing, "…Ms. Summers _claimed_ to be dating the man at the Security Center! It would be _easy_ for her to get access numbers!"

"What's that measly card going to prove!?" the public prosecutor demanded. The younger attorney was sure that all of this excitement was going to give the poor man a heart attack. _Wait…is that __**foam**__ coming out of his mouth?_

"If you had _also_ checked this card, you would've found that, though this card is still registered under Judy Summers, the _access_ number matches that of Ms. Baxter's room!"

That was it. It was the final blow to the drawn out Apartment Murders case that had taken so long to finish. Phoenix smiled at his work and turned his attention to his client, Joe Spencer, who was shedding tears of joy from his chair nearby. Now he had proven his client innocent _and_ unmasked the real killer, along with his cousin accomplice.

Phoenix was amazed when the room broke out into applause, followed by a standing ovation (and a quick scolding from the judge, though his eyes were sparkling with mirth). This heavy battle was finally at a close. Closing his eyes, the young attorney fell forward across his desk, relieved to feel its cool furnish against his face.

He paid no attention when Joe Spencer took the stand and the judge declared him "not guilty." He was much more interested in watching as the bailiffs arrested Judy Summers and her cousin, Maxwell Ward, for the murders of four apartment residents in the complexes on the corner of Grove Street. When Ms. Summers gave one last glare back to him, he rewarded her with a small wave of his hand and a silent attack of tongue wars. She screamed in frustration, just like he expected her to, and stormed out of the courtroom, which was still in voluminous applause.

_Wright, you've done it again! You __**really**__ should get a raise for this…_ He chuckled to himself. It seemed as though he was getting much better in his line of work, and, though he still wished Mia was around, felt himself getting a better hold on things. Not that the cases came any easier. This one, in particular, he was almost _sure_ was going to swim against the tide—his tide, for that matter. Still, he kept believing in his client, like Mia had told him to, and it resulted in, yet, another victorious outcome.

--

"How can I ever begin to thank you, Mr. Wright?" Joe Spencer, a tall, bald man with a firm grip on Phoenix's hand, was grinning from ear to ear. The young attorney had to look up at him in order to mirror his client's smile, but it was a conquest well earned. "I don't think I could ever repay you for what you've done."

Pumping his arm twice before letting go, Phoenix said, "No, no, it's quite all right. I'm just happy that you're out here while the real culprits are in custody."

"Yeah," Spencer laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. His orange basketball jersey was ruffled slightly against the movement. "Though, I do feel bad for them. I mean, I always thought Ms. Summers was such a sweet young lady. I never would imagine that she and Maxwell would try to frame me for murder." Seeing the inquisitive look in Joe's eyes, Phoenix could anticipate the next question. His mouth opened and he asked, "Say, what made them to do such a nasty thing in the first place, Mr. Wright? I always thought that we were friends…"

"Well…" For the first time, the young attorney had no physical evidence to display to his client for his desperation in understanding why friends had become foes. Instead, he replied, "I don't want to say that it's true that 'nice guys finish last,' Mr. Spencer, but it seems that they took advantage of your kindness. You let them borrow money, clothes, and even your keycard."

His shoulders slumped, the taller man looking dejected. "Yeah, and that's what killed me on that last part, too."

Phoenix grimaced, remembering how Maxwell and his cousin had used Joe's keycard to make duplicates to conduct the first killing of John Whitman. "Well…the past is the past, now. I don't want to tell you to stop being a nice guy, because that's what the world needs more of nowadays, but I just want you to remember this for future reference."

"Oh, you bet I will!" Spencer's face lit up and Phoenix could've sworn that his client had been born again with new understanding about the world. "I won't be duped so easily again!"

The young attorney simply smiled. _For your sake, I hope not. You were taken advantage of four times, once for every murder. No wonder the entire court had pinned all of them on you._

"Well," Joe bowed his head, smiling and looking better than when he had come in, "Guess I'll go see about them clearing up my name and letting me out of Detention now." He was silent for a moment longer before bringing his full attention back to the other man. "Mr. Wright, if there's ever _anything_ I could do to make it up to you…_anything_ at all…"

"I'll be sure to let you know," Phoenix finished for him. "Listen, Mr. Spencer, my happiness lies just in knowing that you'll be okay from here on out. If you really want to repay me, just keep it that way, all right?"

Joe was not hesitant to agree. "Understood! I promise I won't waste all of your efforts! You have my word!" With that, he patted Phoenix on the back and walked out with a bailiff behind him.

--

Eight months had passed since Phoenix Wright's battle against Damon Gant for the freedom of Lana Skye. Nothing much had changed since then, except Maya was packaging Pink Princess cards and giving them to him, Ema was sending letters from Europe (plenty of them asking about Mr. Edgeworth, all to which the defense attorney knew nothing about after not having seen his childhood friend since the day he had walked out of the lobby), and Lana kept in touch. In the end, Damon Gant did not press charges against Phoenix for breaking into his office, calling _"Touché" _to their battle in court. Gant was removed as Chief of Police and held accountable for murder on both accounts of Neil Marshall and Bruce Goodman.

Phoenix, all in all, was happy with his life for the most part. Business was finally picking up and he was taking requests for clients again. The one thing that he was most proud of was his unscathed record as a defense attorney. Within time, his name carried a reputation and, when defense attorneys were offered, Phoenix was almost always at the top of the clients' lists. Though having felt he had fulfilled his obligations as an attorney and had repaid his two friends for their kindness long ago, the young man could not pry himself away from the imploring cries of those in need.

He had more than once laughed at the thought. _I suppose Edgeworth and Larry are right. I __**am**__ a Goody-Two-Shoes, aren't I?_ Nevertheless, it was people like Joe Spencer that forced him from turning his head. Knowing that he still had to do the right thing for people who could not defend themselves (and to pick up where a certain stubborn prosecutor had left off since the DL-6 case), Phoenix remained a defense attorney.

Still, deep down, he knew that not _all_ expectations had been met and that, though previously believed, certain ties between he and Edgeworth still had remained severed. It hadn't helped that Phoenix hadn't heard from him since that final day in the lobby with Ema and Lana, and the fact that Edgeworth had been lost to an unreachable fog, like before, left him even more disconcerted.

Despite these short-lived surges of lamentation, Phoenix knew that he was advancing in his career both financially and in experience. He found himself losing more and more sleep over harder to crack cases, but knew that each victory could not have been obtained without previous occurrences and knowledge. _And I thought that helping Larry out had been hard._ The cases up until now had shared similar traits: revenge, betrayal, disguises (especially as the victims in particular), and executives in higher statuses. In Phoenix's opinion, that's what had made him take the case—the _lack_ of repetitive qualities that he had seen in all of the other cases.

This case had not been so easy to solve and Phoenix, himself, had begun to have doubts about whether or not his client was _truly_ innocent. It all had started when Joe Spencer called the defense attorney from Detention, told him that he had been accused of four murders in the past two months, and that his life hung in the very balance of the trial's outcome. Phoenix could handle one murder, maybe even _two,_ as had happened in the past, but those had been separate cases. Certainly not four, he told himself. Yet, something continued to churn in his mind: _What if my friends gave up on me? What if I was truly innocent, but no one believed me? What if all my hope really was gone?_ Then he thought of Lana and decided to take the case.

No, things had _not_ been easy at first, and all evidence pointed to Joe Spencer, a nice guy who had been tricked by those he thought to be friends. He was the new guy on the block and just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Also, being a part of the Anti-Specialists campaign did _not_ help his reputation any further, though all of its participants had nothing abominable to say against Joe and were in quite a shock to learn that their friend was being held responsible for murder.

Phoenix had always thought friends were one of the most important things in life to have, so when Joe Spencer couldn't understand why _his_ friends would not stand up for him, the defense attorney did. _How ironic that I found that those who were accusing him were __**actually **__the ones who did it? Hmph, with "friends" like them, who needs enemies?_ However, now that everything was said and done, he wanted to clear it from his mind as fast as possible. It was no longer relevant to him; tomorrow, someone else would come in with another almost unshakable case. _But didn't I rock the socks off of them? Heh, heh…_

Phoenix walked into his office, threw his coat onto the rack, and yawned. It was still only two o'clock in the afternoon, so the day hadn't been _completely _wasted. Everything was silent except for the unremitting rhythm of the clock located on the right wall above one of the desks.

The office was tidy, the carpets clean, and the desks polished nicely. He checked to make sure that the plants were still healthy, and fingered several leaves before noting his satisfaction and continuing on. His eyes wandered to the large file cabinet in the front room, remembering how he had spent all afternoon of the previous day cleaning off fingerprints and other grime that had clung to the glass.

A large, framed painting hung over a lengthy black sofa, the leather shiny and slick. Phoenix remembered that Mia had bought the painting when she last owned the company and hadn't the heart to take it down, even though it wasn't _really_ his taste in art. His lips twisted slightly when he realized that the sofa seats looked stiff and box-like in shape. Had it really been _that_ long since a client had come in or was it _really_ just the time that had passed since he first took the Apartment Complex Case? Either way, it had been a long road and he was relieved that it was over with.

Still, the silence bothered him every time his eyes turned back to the empty coat rack that now only held his blue jacket. Maya had been gone for ten months now, and he had only recently realized how much he truly missed her company. Spinning on his back foot, his vacant surroundings only added to his misery. The desk she used to sit at (and spent most of her time twirling in the swivel chair, much to his dismay) had begun to collect dust, and he ran a hand over the back of the leather chair to wipe it away, leaving a messy handprint behind.

Giving a wry smile, Phoenix opened the door into his office and moved inside. As he walked by his desk, he grabbed the stack of mail that he had retrieved earlier that day, but hadn't had the time to sort through it. He stood in front of his large office window, overlooking the Gatewater Hotel—a place that sent shivers down his spine as he recalled the terrible memory associated with it. Mia's death, April May and her wiretapping, Redd White and Bluecorp, and his own trial for innocence. About the only good thing that had come from that case was his meeting with Maya, who became his friend and partner after that.

The luxurious hotel seemed to be busy, now, with people filing in and out of the turning doors, employees in the valet service driving cars away from the curb, and Phoenix could've _sworn_ he saw that head bellboy down there greeting a group of wealthy looking ladies. _It's strange that this place would be so busy at this time of the month; it's only October. Perhaps it's for Halloween? But that's kind of silly…_

Pushing the thought from his mind, the defense attorney spun around, nearly colliding with Mia's favorite plant that was in the corner of the room. His hand reached out to turn down the blinds, erasing the sunlight from his room until it had become very dim.

"Gah…All I want to do is sleep. I haven't had much of it since I began this case a month ago…" Stretching, Phoenix began towards his smaller sofa, which faced the window, and sat down, setting the stack of mail beside him.

There was a glass light stand next to the couch and he pulled on the chain to bring a ray of light over him—just enough to read the mail before laying down for a nap. He sighed, leaned his head back, and caught sight of the mountainous shelves containing endless records of cases and recent rulings. They, too, had begun to collect dust.

"I really should hire a maid," he mumbled before sitting up straight and bringing the envelopes to his lap.

He shuffled through them, glancing over them quickly, and set the ones aside that he wanted to deal with later—bills, coupon books, magazines, and paperwork for the business. In the end he was left with two unopened letters: one was without a return address and the other from Maya.

"Let's see what Maya has to say," he said to himself, tearing the envelope open and wriggling the letter loose from within. Unfolding it, his eyes began to skim over the messy handwriting that he knew so well. "Dear Nick, how have you been? I'm doing well…training's almost done…other acolytes have helped me regain my abilities…" He nodded to himself, "That's a good thing, I suppose." His focus fell to the bottom of the letter. "I will be home later on this week and will stop by to see you when I get in. Don't make other plans without me. Maya."

Phoenix set the letter aside, smiling. It would be good to see her again. There was probably a lot she had to tell him and vice-versa. Still, he wasn't sure what could be so exciting about living on a mountain. It didn't matter, though. He was just happy to have her back. Setting her letter on top of the other mail he had put away, the young attorney took the last letter in the stack, brought it up to his face, and scrutinized it thoroughly.

"There's no return address…and there's no handwriting, either. There's a sticker on here with my address on it." Phoenix's brows furrowed together. "How on earth could they do that? And why?" _Who sent me this?_

Curiosity rising with every moment, he tore the top off just as fast as he had done with Maya's and pulled the letter out from within. It was a denser letter, as though its contents were heavy with something important…

…Like…glue…

"What?" Unfolding the letter, the first thing that Phoenix realized was anomalous about the letter was the dried glue that had indented itself through the paper, weighing it down significantly more than just a standard piece of paper. He forced himself to focus and look at the large, printed words on the sheet:

**YoU'rE nExT**

He couldn't move.

For a moment, he couldn't even fathom what had made the words in the first place. It was not from a human hand—they were too large and neat. But the words, "you're next" caught him off guard. His breathing halted, his eyes remained open, and it wasn't long before his body felt numb all over.

His mouth was left agape, sputtering half formed words, but nothing could form any sense on what he saw now. Even his mind was spinning with jumbled thoughts, possibilities, and, above all else, questions.

_Who sent it? Why? When? What does it mean? It doesn't make any sense!_ What could someone mean by "you're next" in such a letter? Was it a threat? It had to be. With no return address and glue all over the paper…

Wait, were those magazine _cutouts?_

Finally able to think clearly for a moment, Phoenix realized that all the letters on the paper had been cut out of various magazines and pasted on, forming an uneven line of words that said, "you're next."

_There's no handwriting, no return address, no signature…W-What is this?_

Before long, his hands were trembling, the letter becoming impossible to read with the shaking, and his eyes became blurry from staring at the words for so long. They had begun to burn themselves into his mind, like a branding. _Okay, Wright, calm down! There are things you can do, so now's __**not**__ the time to panic!_ "But…But this letter! W-Who…Why!?"

He found himself pulling back against the couch, the letter falling from his hands and floating to the carpet. Phoenix stared at the white, folded paper from its position on the ground, panting. "I don't…understand…" he stuttered, and slowly reached up to his face to feel that beads of sweat had formed at his hairline. "Wh-What could that letter mean and why to me?"

He grabbed the torn envelope, stared at the address on it, and realized that there _was_ no mistake. The letter was definitely meant for him. Immediately, the clockwork inside his mind began to turn. Enemies…Did he have any? _Of course I do! Everyone I found in a case to be guilty has always sworn death upon me! The culprit could be __**anybody!**_ Motives? That was a stupid question. No doubt they'd have one.

Phoenix looked back to the letter on the floor, the words haunting him.

"That's it. I'm quitting my profession. But first, my life might be on the line. W-What can I do…?"

Without a second thought to it, his thoughts were interrupted by a voluminous ringing that jerked him up from the couch in surprise. Diverting his gaze from the paper, Phoenix glanced all around the room, then settled down and placed an open hand over his chest. _That's…the phone…Where did I put it? Oh, right, my coat pocket._

He jumped up from the couch again, leaving the letter on the floor, and maneuvered around the room, past his desk, and out into the main hall where his coat was laying across the coat rack. Reaching into his right pocket, he withdrew a silver phone and looked at the caller on the ID screen.

"Larry," he breathed. "He could've picked a better time to call." Pressing the accept button, he put the phone to his ear and said, "Hello?"

"_Nick! Hey, man, wassup?"_ He didn't give Phoenix a chance to answer before immediately diving into the reason why he called, _"Listen, I got off work early today and I was calling to see if you wanted to go out for some burgers or something at the usual joint downtown."_

The young defense attorney frowned, his eyes moving back to the door that led to his office. "I don't know, Larry. Now's not a really good time for me…"

"_Not a good time!? What are you talking about!? You told me __**today**__ that your big trial ends! …You __**did**__ win, right?"_

"Yes, yes, Larry, I won, but that's not the reason I don't want to go out with you. I have…other problems."

"_Ah, geez man, you __**always**__ have problems! Well, don't we all!? Listen, I'm going out for a burger and __**you're**__ coming with me whether you like it or not, okay? I'll come to your office and drag you kicking and screaming if I have to."_

Phoenix chuckled and shook his head, imagining the thought. Larry was a scrawny guy and it was hard to get him to do much of _anything._ Still…perhaps this was the break he needed. _It may be a bad idea to bring it up to him, but maybe he'll have a clue about that letter. Guess there's no harm in going out for a little while…_

"All right, Larry. I'll go to lunch with you. I'm going to take the taxi down there, so I'll see you in about twenty minutes."

"_Sweet! I'll reserve some seats for us then. Late!"_

The sound of the dial tone reverberated in Phoenix's ear for quite some time as he held the phone to his ear and stared at the floor.

--

"No, it's not like that at all," the young defense attorney corrected as he watched Larry Butz hastily shove his double bacon cheeseburger into his mouth, as though someone were going to come by and steal it from him. "What I'm trying to say is that I don't _know_ who sent me the letter."

Larry looked confused. Phoenix frowned.

"Let me get this straight," Larry began after he swallowed the large chunk of burger in his mouth and his cheeks returned to normal from the bloated way they were before. "You_ went_ into your office after the trial this morning, grabbed your mail, looked through it, and opened a letter that said, 'you're next' on it?"

"…Would you just like for me to hand you the letter?"

The younger man laughed, "Well, _duh!_ You should've just done _that_ in the first place!"

_Obviously._ Phoenix reached into his coat pocket, pulling the envelope out for his friend to see. Holding it up, he pointed out, "Do you see that there's no return address on it?"

"Hey, your address is a sticker, Nick. Why would he go through all of the trouble to make your address into a sticker?"

"I don't know. But…did you hear what I said? I said, 'do you see that there's no return address on—'"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time."

"Yeah, but…you _see_ it, right?"

"Of course I see it. I was just pointing out that the sticker on the front has your address on it."

Phoenix gave him a look and then nodded. "Yeah, I know that it's a sticker, but my concern is more that there's no return address. So, that rules out that I know this guy, right?"

Larry was picking at his fries now, stirring them around in his paper ketchup cup. "Well, he _could've_ signed it on the inside…"

"He didn't."

Larry chewed on his fry, obviously lost in thought.

The attorney blinked. _I can't tell if he's listening anymore. _He prepared to put the letter back into his coat until Larry snatched it from him.

"Let me see that," he said as he pulled the paper from out of the envelope. Larry tossed back the empty envelope and unfolded the paper. "'You're next.'" Then, nodding, "Any idea of who would send it?"

"Everyone I prove guilty hates me. I have many suspects in mind." Phoenix sighed, his eyes lowering to the orange surface of their table. "My question _is…_What would you do if you were in _my_ position?"

Snorting, Larry handed the letter back and replied, "Me? I'd pack up, move, change my name, grow a beard, shave it off, grow it back again, and live happily ever after with the woman of my dreams." This was followed by a pearly smile and creased dimples. "As for you, man, that's a toughie. You're not exactly in the best profession, you know. Nobody likes lawyers."

"Gee, thanks."

"Any time," Larry grabbed his burger again and held it up to his mouth. "Say, Nick, why don't you go and have a test done on it?"

Phoenix was lost in thought for the moment before realizing Larry had said something. "Hmm? What?"

"Fingerprints, ya know? Or fibers or something…Whatever it is that cops do. Go get a test done on it and maybe you'll come up with something, ya know?"

Phoenix turned away, stirring one of his own fries in the ketchup cup. _I hadn't thought of that. _"I suppose…but it's going to be pretty hard to narrow it down to just _one_ person."

The remark caused his friend to stop eating. "Do you _really_ have that many enemies, Nick?" Phoenix frowned. "Man, I'm glad I _never_ got involved in that stuff like you and Edgey did. You're right in saying that every guy you got sent to jail is out for your blood. Heck, it wouldn't surprise me if they all banded together and started a hate campaign against you."

Pushing his tray of food away, Phoenix paused, giving an inward lamentation to the matter at hand, but only said, "You know…I'm not really hungry anymore."

Larry stared at the vacant food, the last bit of his own burger in his hand, before reaching out and grabbing the edge of his friend's tray. "Anyway, what about the culprits from this latest case? Think they might've done it?"

Phoenix watched as Larry grabbed the half eaten burger and began to devour it. "That's the most logical explanation, isn't it? I don't see anyone else doing it. Though, I must admit that I'm surprised that no one came to the office to attack me directly."

"Well, look. Go get that thing tested. If anything comes up, let me know, all right? Just because you're in an obviously dangerous profession doesn't mean that I don't worry about you."

"Thanks, Larry. I guess that that's my last remaining option, huh? I'll go by Criminal Affairs to talk to one of the detectives there and see what he can tell me."

"Well, I hope things turn out better for you. Sorry to hear that you're having a bad day."

"My day was fine until I got this." The attorney shook his head and took the letter back from Larry. "I'll give you a call if I find out anything, all right?"

"Yeah, you'd better. I mean it, Nick."

"I will," Phoenix stood up, stuffing the envelope back into his coat pocket. "I'm going to go there before the detective leaves, though. Enjoy the rest of your lunch, Larry, and thanks." He patted his friend on the back and moved towards the door.

"No problem."

--

"Detective Gumshoe, don't you think you could make it an exception just this _one_ time?" Phoenix was leaning over the older man's desk, a desperate look in his eyes. "I'm _serious!_" He began to wave the envelope about in Dick's face, "I think this may be a matter of life and death."

Gumshoe stared back at the defense attorney without remorse. "…You sure like to exaggerate, don't you?" Phoenix felt the sudden urge to crash to the floor. "Besides, thanks to _you,_ I almost lost my job eight months ago."

"Do we _have_ to keep bringing that up? You got your job back in the end, didn't you? Not to mention, you _did_ help us crack a very impor—no, scratch that—_two_ very important cases!" Phoenix was panting and his sweaty palms were beginning leave a moist fog on the detective's polished desk. "All I want you to do is test this envelope and the letter inside for fingerprints. It _won't_ take anymore than a few minutes."

Gumshoe looked askance at the younger man, but slowly lifted his hand to take the letter from him. "The things I do for you, pal. Don't you owe me quite a bit of money by now?"

"What? To help pay off what they've penalized you for?" Phoenix had meant it as a joke, but the look on the detective's face made him snap his mouth shut. _Guess it's not a wise idea to look a gift horse in the mouth. At least…not this one…_ "S-Sorry…"

Detective Gumshoe stood up, lightly hitting the envelope against the flat of his other hand, and turned away. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't go anywhere, pal." It was a surprise to Phoenix when he immediately added, "You know, this is an oddball you've got stalking you, here. Magazine cutouts for letters? Now _there's_ a new one. I thought they only did that in the movies."

…_You're always basing your statistics off of the __**cop movies**__ you've seen._ "Yeah, me too. Guess times are changing." The attorney gave a wry smile and rubbed the back of his neck. "Just let me know what you find, all right?"

"Don't need to ask me twice, pal."

Phoenix watched as his friend disappeared through the back door. He sighed, exasperated, and fell to his knees in the middle of the aisle, his arms and head lying across the surface of the good detective's desk. "Aw man, at least _that's_ over. I thought for sure that there would be no way of getting to him."

The young man glanced up, his eyes half closed, and grunted as he stared at the black, vacant recliner belonging to Gumshoe. It had been a while since he had seen the man personally, but realized that he had worked on some of the bigger cases Phoenix had recently. In fact, if it hadn't been for his voluntary cooperation in the Apartment Complex Murders, Joe Spencer would've already been found guilty and be spending the rest of his days rotting in jail.

Even though Edgeworth wasn't the prosecutor for any of the cases, that didn't stop Gumshoe from working with the younger lawyer, giving him vital information, letting him slide by into crime scenes, and talk to "secret" witnesses, all by carelessness, really, but Phoenix had always wondered if the detective was _really_ that dense.

_For some reason, I don't know if I __**want**__ to know the answer to that question._ The young man chuckled at the thought, realizing that, though both of them had never intended for it, they had grown closer as friends—not that Edgeworth's friendship wasn't important to Gumshoe as well. Phoenix always wondered how he could play between the two of them, giving crucial information that could make or break a case to both sides.

_Then again, maybe he really __**doesn't**__ know what he's doing. Oh well, best not to tell him. Right now, he's the only chance I've got. Still…I can't help but think that he's gotten a little bit smarter since the last time I saw him in person. Maybe he's finally realized that he can't play sides for both the defense __**and**__ prosecution._

However, one look at Dick Gumshoe's dulled name plate made Phoenix think again. _Never mind, I'll just accept the fact that he really is that dense._ Then he scolded himself. _He's helping me out when he doesn't actually __**have**__ to. I suppose it wouldn't kill me to be a __**little**__ nicer to him._

Standing up, Phoenix dusted off his blue pants and coat and turned around. The precincts hadn't really changed much since Gant's resignation from the force. Though he was facing quite a sentence in prison for his unthinkable crimes, that didn't stop him from trying to reach back into the force, where Phoenix supposed his _true_ happiness was._ And for him to throw it all away. I wonder how he feels now…_

A new Chief of Police had been taken up on the seat of power and went by the name of Gerald Simon—formerly a chief from another city, but was transferred here upon request by the district. Phoenix had never met him and knew nothing else about him except his name and relocation, but he had a sinking feeling that it wouldn't be much longer until he and the man made acquaintances with each other. _The day I meet him, it'll be __**too**__ soon. I just hope he isn't anything like Gant. Talk about a scary guy…_

Everything was silent as he waited for Gumshoe to come back. All of the other detectives, including the Chief Detective, were working away at their computers. Working on _what,_ though, Phoenix wasn't sure. The commotion since the Apartment Complex Murders, which had been the biggest case in the last six months, had died down immensely, like an imperceptible fog had crept along the crime division and taken the souls from the detectives. _Cold and calculating robots. Almost sounds like Edgeworth, actually. Speaking of him, I wonder if Detective Gumshoe has heard from him recently…The two were close…or so he said. Maybe I'll ask._

Inattentively, he had begun to whistle, but snapped his mouth shut after the Chief Detective looked up and gave him a disapproving stare. Phoenix laughed, embarrassed, and turned away from him. Instead, he started to drum his fingers against the edge of Gumshoe's desk, prompting a loud clearing of the throat from one of the other detectives. Stopping his fingers in midair, the defense attorney gave another quarter turn, and leaned against the desk.

Desperately trying to find something to pass the time with, Phoenix raked his hand through his spiky hair, the gel coming off onto his fingertips. Rubbing his fingers on his pants, he glanced up at the large clock on the wall to see the time. _It's almost four o' clock. It took a while to get here from the burger joint by taxi, but I suppose that it's all due to the traffic. Either something big is happening here or Halloween has become a more celebrated holiday._

He was looking forward to going home and…maybe enjoying his night off. _I need to forget about this letter for a while. I haven't had a break in a while, so I __**deserve**__ this._ He swallowed the last of his fear and his ears perked up as someone approached him from behind.

"Sorry buddy. Your secret admirer is really something." Gumshoe held the letter out for Phoenix to take. "I wish I could be of more help."

Phoenix was desperate. "No fabric pieces? Lint? _Anything?_"

"Nada."

The attorney felt his hopes crash to the floor. He knew that he needed this break, for mental health's sake, and now he was back to square one. Phoenix took the letter back.

"Thanks for trying, anyway. Do you have any advice about where I should go from here?"

Dick sat down at his desk and leaned back in his leather recliner, becoming relaxed as he allowed his arms to drop off the sides of the rests.

"Well, if I were you, pal, I'd start searching for suspects. Got any enemies?"

Phoenix gave him a hard stare. "I'm an attorney, Detective. I've gotten a fair amount of people arrested as of late. What do you think?"

"I think you need to find another job," the older man chuckled. "But, seriously, do you know of anyone who'd go so far to do this?"

"Well…" the lawyer scratched his chin, staring up at the ceiling. "What about Gant? Or maybe von Karma? I know that when I tore them down from their pedestal, I wasn't exactly number one on their friends list."

"True, but they're in police custody and any letters that they send out or are coming to them are read by police. I honestly don't think it could be them."

"Well, what if they're having outsiders write letters _for_ them?"

Gumshoe was silent for a moment. "_Then_ I'd say you have a problem."

Phoenix slumped over. "Thanks for your help, Detective Gumshoe."

"Hey, I'm just trying to give the facts! All I'm saying is that you could be right about that last part, but is there _anyone_ else that would do this?"

The younger man mused about it a little bit longer. _Let's see…Anyone from my earlier cases? That…Sawdust guy? …Nah. Mr. Whitney…er, White? …Possibly, but probably not. Hmm…Vasquez? Though she __**does**__ have ties with the mafia, I don't think she'd write this…_

"Well?"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking." _If it's not von Karma or Gant, who could it be?_ "I…think I'm at a loss here. Unless…there's more to the Apartment Complex Murders than what I thought…"

"What? You saying that maybe that Maxwell Ward guy wrote it to you? He's in police custody, too. When would he have had the time to write it?"

"True…I didn't exactly get them convicted until today. Guess that rules him out."

"Well, listen, pal," Gumshoe gave a dramatic pause before continuing, "Give it a few days and see what happens. That letter may somehow be related to this latest case, like you said. If that's so, the culprits are in custody and there's nothing more to worry about."

"…I guess that's true…" Phoenix shoved the letter back into his pocket, sighing. "I'll let you know if anything else happens."

"All right, have a nice night, pal." Gumshoe looked as though he was going to stand up again, but the younger man halted him.

"Wait, I still have some questions."

The detective relaxed again, crossing his arms over his chest. "Okay, shoot."

Phoenix wasn't sure of how to go about asking such a question without feeling stupid, but his curiosity was getting the best of him, eating at him with such a discomfort, it left him feeling apprehensive. He_ had_ to know the answer.

"What…" He swallowed, taking a deep breath, and tried again, "What ever happened…to Edgeworth?"

Detective Gumshoe's eyes widened momentarily, and Phoenix _knew_ that the question had caught him off guard. _Did I…upset him?_

The two were silent for a moment and the detective broke eye contact with the defense attorney and looked towards the floor. The younger man's jaw hung open, unsure of how to remedy the situation now that he had damaged the conversation. However, much to his dismay, no words would come.

"I…thought you knew."

"No," the lawyer shook his head. "That's why I'm asking you."

Gumshoe inhaled, bringing his eyes back to Phoenix's. "There was a letter found on his desk after that case with the Chief and the prosecutor." The attorney leaned in closer. "It said, 'I choose death.'"

The words took time to sink in and comprehend completely. Phoenix blinked in a rapid motion lasting for at least ten seconds. His jaw reopened and hit the ground as his eyes bugged, pupils shrinking, and a large crease formed at his forehead, where his furrowed brows were twitching against each other. The lines under his eyes and around his mouth deepened, and his lips quivered as he struggled to find words to say.

His thoughts were spinning in a violent torrent of unexplainable thoughts that he could not sort in time to understand what Detective Gumshoe had said. "It can't be" was the only congruous phrase that appeared in his mind, and even _that_ had no backdrop meaning. Alone, it was irrelevant, but the words, "I choose death," quickly _became_ the needed backdrop.

"_What!?_" It came out as a sharp cry, causing everyone in the commodious room to glance up from their work and stare at the outraged attorney, who had abruptly slapped his hands against Gumshoe's desk, leaving red welts on his palms. "What do you _mean_ he chooses death!? Are you saying—"

Gumshoe grunted and shifted in his recliner, the situation becoming tense and Phoenix could see the uneasiness in his eyes and the fright from his twitching mouth. _There __**is**__ a reason they say to 'not kill the messenger,' isn't there?_

Phoenix instantly forced himself to regain his composure, breaking his attention from the detective. Again, he was at a loss for words, and his mouth opened and closed in a frantic plight to find out the truth about his friend. _No…Edgeworth wouldn't have…He's not the type…Suicide?_ "I…I'm sorry…I didn't mean to flare up like that…" he apologized wholeheartedly, his hands quaking as they gripped the edge of the desk.

"No, no, pal, I completely understand. Mr. Edgeworth…he…he's no longer with us, I'm afraid…" Phoenix was surprised at how easy it was for Gumshoe to tell him this, considering how much he had idolized the young prosecutor. _Why am I the only one who's taking this hard? Despite the rumors about him and the fact that not __**everyone**__ liked him, I would've thought at __**least**__ a couple of people would mourn for him. And another thing…_

"Why haven't I heard about this?" the lawyer asked, realizing that his breathing was becoming steady again. The other detectives ignored the two and went back to their work. "I mean, it wasn't in the paper or anything…"

"Oh, it was in the paper, all right. About eight months ago, too. You see, after that case, he stopped taking cases and coming to court. Then, all too suddenly, he just disappeared completely, leaving that letter on the desk."

"Who found it?"

Gumshoe shrugged. "I think it was that bellboy from Gatewater Hotel. You see, Mr. Edgeworth often requested tea from there and they would deliver it to him—"

"Are you _sure_ that the letter _just_ said, 'I choose death?'"

"Well…" The detective stood up, finally losing the atmosphere of fright from within him. "They told me about the memo. I was in so much shock that I drove over there to see it for myself. Then, when they weren't looking, I took it."

Phoenix stood upright, perplexed that he would do such a thing. _Then again, it __**is**__ Gumshoe we're talking about, here._ "You…tampered with the evidence?"

"Stealing isn't _exactly_ tampering, pal." The attorney frowned. He looked so sure of it, but that letter could've _meant_ something more!

"You took it from a police investigation. No matter how you look at it, it's _still_ tampering."

Gumshoe's eyes narrowed and his bottom lip stuck out. "Yeah, well…I was distraught at the time, okay? Finding out what had happened to Mr. Edgeworth and all…Don't tell no one, but I bawled like a baby after that, holding the letter and reading what he had written—"

"Do you still have the letter?"

Phoenix looked hopeful, despite his inward thoughts telling him that it was best to stay nonchalant. The shock of Edgeworth's death had not quite settled, yet. The detective said nothing as he leaned forward, looked around twice (Phoenix figured that it was to make sure no one was paying attention), and opened his bottom drawer. The younger man could see a letter was lying on top of a mound of books that came out with the squeaking drawer.

Gumshoe grabbed the letter and, with his other hand, motioned for Phoenix to lean in closer. The lawyer did so and the detective handed him the naked letter. "Here," he whispered. "Don't let anyone see you, pal. This isn't exactly cleared as 'irrelevant,' yet."

Phoenix silently agreed, took the letter, and opened it. _It says, "Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death." I can't believe he'd do such a thing. I wish he had come to talk to me about it. Maybe I could've…What? Wait a minute…_

"I thought you said, _specifically,_ that he had written, 'I choose death' on it."

"Yeah, isn't that what it says?"

"Noooo," Phoenix showed Gumshoe the note. "Isn't this suicide note a little _wordy?_"

The detective paused and then shrugged. "Same difference, ain't it, pal? Normally, in suicide notes, there's actually a reason _why_ the person is doing what they're doing. This is pretty short for one of those."

Phoenix let his words sink in before sighing. _Maybe he's right. Maybe I'm just in denial. But then…why did he write 'Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth' in the note? Was his choice __**really**__ because of his career?_ He closed his eyes._ Ah, who am I kidding?_ "I suppose you're right. Still, I just can't believe he'd do such a thing—and to not even _talk _to us, no less!" The lawyer handed the note back and thrust his hands into his pockets. "I guess…that's the part I just can't get over."

"Hey, pal, think of how _I_ feel. I mean, I thought we were close and all of that."

"You said that there was an article. Do you have that, too?"

"Eh…" Gumshoe scratched the back of his head. "No. I mean, I didn't want to keep something like that—a reminder that I couldn't even help Mr. Edgeworth when he needed his friends most. That trust bond…It makes me think twice now."

"Don't do that," Phoenix shook his head. "Trusting people is always important. It's something I have to have when I'm trying to help my clients. Never give that up." _Edgeworth, you fool…_

"I suppose," Gumshoe didn't seem convinced. "Anyway, they said they never found the body, but they gave up looking six months ago. Guess they figured that if he left behind a letter, there was no use pursuing any evidence against that claim."

"How do they know _he_ wrote the letter?" Phoenix argued.

"It was his paper, his pen, and…" the detective paused long enough to put the letter back in his drawer and close it, the squeaky wheels on it whining loudly, "…I'd know his neat and perfect handwriting anywhere."

The defense attorney chewed on his bottom lip, trying to find _anything_ that didn't seem to fit with Gumshoe's testimony. Unfortunately, he was unsuccessful. _I can't believe Edgeworth would resort to that. After __**everything**__ he stood for and believed in! I'm disappointed…_ "I see…So, suicide note, no body, and no motive…"

"Well, Mr. Edgeworth would have to have a motive to do something terrible like that, but I guess we'll never know what it was, pal. The only thing I figure I can do now is pray for his soul to finally be at peace."

When Gumshoe put it that way, things seemed to be much worse—either that or Phoenix was more depressed than what he thought. The trauma hadn't faded. _I became a lawyer to save him…Looks like I did a bad job at it. I just thought…maybe…but nothing came out of it. It was a waste of time. Edgeworth…_ Violent thoughts formed after that and Phoenix was afraid to speak them, even if they _were_ only in his mind.

"I…I have to go now," the lawyer told the detective, realizing how sick he had become. "I'm not feeling well."

"Go home and get some rest, pal," Gumshoe gave a weak smile. "You need it what with that case, letter, and finding out what happened to Mr. Edgeworth. Sounds like you've had a rough day."

"…That's an understatement," Phoenix mumbled. Looking back to Detective Gumshoe a moment longer, he realized that, though the older man seemed better at hiding it, _he_ was probably more troubled than the attorney was. _After all, he did __**idolize**__ Edgeworth._ Clearing his throat, he held out a hand and waited for Gumshoe to take it. "Thank you, Detective Gumshoe, for all that you've done. I'm sorry to hear what has happened."

They shook once. "So am I, pal, so am I."

--

He couldn't remember what time it was when he got home. He couldn't remember what time it was when he had thrown off his shoes and coat, and he couldn't remember what time it was when he had gone to bed. All he knew, now, was that he was in a place that he didn't like, the cold, musty atmosphere permeating through him like ice water. It sent shivers down his spine.

He struggled to try and remember who he was, and it took some effort to remember that he was rookie attorney, Phoenix Wright—well…rookie was what _most_ people called him. Still…that's not who he was _here_ at this point in time. Well, rookie attorney, that was. He had just learned how to spell his name in neat cursive and print. He liked cursive better at the time, only because of all the wavy lines that he had to draw before he was presented with the name 'Phoenix' on his paper.

The teacher told him often that he had made too many lines and that the 'o' looked like an 'a' when he wrote it, but it was the way he liked it.

"They'll start calling you 'Phaenix,'" she had said. He thought it was funny when she'd say it that way.

The woman who loomed over him, guiding his hand across the paper with the pen, had no face. He wasn't sure if it was because she was a scary person or the fact that he simply couldn't remember her. Or, perhaps it was because his attention was no longer on her, but the dark haired boy who had rushed into the class room, gripping his backpack with both hands.

His hair stood up wildly on his head, and there was a long cowlick that fell across his right eye, unkempt, but he swept it back so that Phoenix could see his flustered face. His eyes were wide and filled with worry while his brows had arched upwards, and he was panting. Phoenix figured he had to have been running pretty fast.

Then his mouth began to move, but Phoenix couldn't understand him.

"Slow down," he heard the teacher say and the boy started again.

Still, he couldn't hear what the boy was saying, as though the words were a foreign language to him. While trying to figure out what it was this boy was shouting about, Phoenix realized that he was being pulled up from out of his chair and taken by the hand towards the panicked boy.

Finally, the newcomer had ceased talking and had, instead, held out a hand towards Phoenix, who was hesitant to take it. Against his struggle, the teacher forced his small hand into the boy's, who instantly darted from the room, yanking Phoenix along with him. Phoenix screamed to "slow down!"

But the boy did not listen. Faster and faster they ran, the classroom disappearing the further they fled from it, until it became nothing more than a speck on the horizon, guarded by darkness, and he and the boy were rushing deeper into it. Phoenix looked around, seeing nothing, and began to whimper as he realized that the entire existence of the world he was running in had become desolate and the only two life forms left were he and this mysterious boy.

"Stop that," he heard the boy command—the first words that Phoenix could finally understand from him. He did as he was told, but it did not lessen his concern and quivering lips. To ease his fears, he clutched the boy's hand tighter.

Again they ran into the darkness, silence consuming the atmosphere in an almost deathlike feeling that made Phoenix shiver once more and he immediately wished he had stayed in the classroom where all the other people were. The thought of this boy possibly abandoning him made tears brim at his eyes, and he wondered why he wanted to cry, and why his hand was so small, and why he had been in a classroom in the first place.

It was true. He was small now—smaller than he had ever remembered being. Then again, it had been so long and his childhood was a distant blur, as though his memory had been cleared away. Now that he was lost and unsure of what was happening, the last thing he wanted was for this boy to leave him.

And finally they stopped, but nothing was in sight. It was still the everlasting darkness that made Phoenix withdraw into himself even further, and he felt himself clinging to this boy for protection. Much to his surprise, the boy returned the embrace, encircling his arms around him for warmth. Phoenix was soothed for a moment longer, his eyes closing to further intake this small trinket of happiness, until the sound of a loud _bang!_ erupted in his eardrums.

He abruptly jerked back, looking up, but the boy still kept an arm around him. Phoenix was surprised to see something that he had not noticed before standing above them. It was a large podium that stretched for miles and miles, it seemed, up into the sky. A shadow was at the very top, holding a big hammer and repeatedly slamming it down against the surface of his podium.

The shadow was laughing—such an evil laugh that caused Phoenix to recoil into the arms of the boy…who was no longer there. Alarmed, he turned to where the boy had stood and realized that he had disappeared. There wasn't even the slightest glimpse of him running off into another direction. It was as though the boy had vanished into the darkness.

Phoenix's breathing grew heavy until thick gasping escaped from his mouth in an imbalanced rhythm and he spun in circles, searching for his only companion, before looking up at the growing shadow standing at the top of the podium. The maniacal laughter increased, growing more voluminous than before and Phoenix held his hands to his ears, crouched down to the ground, and wept.

His crying was interrupted by a sudden break in the ground and he jolted his attention to his feet, where a large crack grew beneath him. Screaming in fright, he jumped back to his feet and began to run back towards the direction of the classroom. His panting was so heavy and burdensome now, that he felt his body beginning to shut down and his speed decreasing as his legs begged for him to stop.

The fracture behind him began to form large fissures all around him, the ground ripping apart in many directions. The podium had long since disappeared, and Phoenix wondered if the darkness had swallowed the boy, too. Still, the thought of being swallowed terrified him even more, and he forced himself to run again, no matter how tired he was. He lifted his legs higher and higher, sprinting as fast as he could, looking for his sanction of the classroom.

He figured that he had outrun the breaking of the ground when he no longer heard the dangers of it ripping apart, and Phoenix slowed his pace where he doubled over to catch his breath. He squatted there for quite some time, drawing in deep breaths until the burning in his chest faded. His sweaty palms were shaking, and he could feel his knees knocking together, itching with such furious heat that he couldn't help but scratch at them, only resulting in more stinging pain.

Trying to divert his attention from the pain in his body, Phoenix glanced up, seeking out the classroom that he had come from, but realized that only darkness surrounded him. He feared that he had taken a wrong turn or that the classroom had been ingested by the darkness like everything else, and he wanted to cry again.

His hands gripped at his heart, feeling it beat against his chest so loudly that it rang in his ears—almost as loud as that shadow's hammer had. Closing his eyes fiercely, he prayed for someone to find him and his heart almost stopped when he caught the faint sounds of something breaking in the distance.

Realizing that the dangers had returned, Phoenix forced himself to his feet and began to run again, despite the aching and burning in his body. The heavy panting returned before long and beads of sweat dripped down the sides of his head, down along his cheeks. Faster and faster he commanded himself to run, but his body was too tired to heed them. He tripped over his legs once, but successfully regained his balance before falling down.

The cracking grew louder and louder around him and he wondered if he was slowing down or if the breaking was coming after him faster. He panicked, swerving off to the left and trying to run in a different direction. His heart skipped a beat when he saw a man standing there with dark hair and thick rimmed glasses. His mouth was opening, forming one word that was too hard to make out from the distance that Phoenix was at, and his arms were wide open.

Sprinting as fast as he could, he held his own arms out, trying to catch the man before he faded or before he was gobbled up by the darkness that had taken everything else from him. Then, he tripped again, but it wasn't over his own feet. The cracking had come from underneath him, trying to take him down into the darkness below, and Phoenix screamed.

He jumped in the air, trying to avoid the large, gaping hole that formed underneath him, and continued to rush towards the man. Phoenix looked closer as he ran, trying to see who it was, the familiar smile somehow melting the fear away from his heart. He knew that if he got just a _little_ closer, he could see who the man was who was rescuing him from this darkness.

Phoenix tried his hardest to ignore the cracking and the ground ripping apart beneath him. Several times he jumped to avoid beginning rifts and continued forward. Nothing would stop him now. Nothing would get in his way. Then, his hopes were dashed as the ground beneath the man crumbled, broke away instantly, and took the man into the everlasting darkness.

"NO!" Skidding to a stop that sent him to his stomach, Phoenix met the ground all too abruptly, sliding over to the side of the cliff that had claimed the man's life just seconds before. He stared in wild disbelief into the crevasse, his mouth hanging open and his eyes widening in such horror, even tears could not form.

Everything was silent for a moment longer, and Phoenix thought it strange that he couldn't even hear the scream of the man who had tumbled below. His arms were shaking violently and all the color had been lost from his knuckles, which gripped the cliff's edge so tightly now. Then, losing control, he collapsed entirely to the ground, his arms covering his head, and wept with such force, it threw his body into furious fits that formed an incessant throbbing throughout his body, setting it aflame, he thought, and weakening it.

Losing everything to this place of darkness, Phoenix wondered if he would ever fated to escape. Suddenly, with one final quake of the ground, he felt his foundation break way and his body become light as he fell into the darkness that he had, seconds before, seen the man tumble into. His reverberating shrills were answered by no one as he fell to his death.

--

"AHHHH!" The crash to the floor was not merciful, and the pain only intensified when the bed mattress flipped over on top of Phoenix Wright, who lay in a shivering ball by the side of his bed.

There were no other sounds except for the sound his heavy breathing made as he lay there, under the mattress, in the darkness that surrounded him. He sought for light of any kind, growing weary of the color black that overwhelmed his eyes. Crawling out from underneath his mattress, taking his tangled sheets along with him, Phoenix pulled himself out, rolled over, and lay sprawled, staring upwards at the dark ceiling.

Realizing that he had broken out into a cold sweat, he used one hand to wipe away the moisture, his dry lips and throat cupping the panting emitting from within his lungs. His hand moved down from his face to the base of his neck and along his bare chest, realizing that sweat had claimed the rest of his body, too.

"What a strange dream," he murmured after a moment and then coughed afterwards. _Water…I need water._ Despite the protest from his aching muscles, Phoenix forced himself into a sitting position, hunched over, his eyes closed. He felt the banging in his chest slowly die down as he sat there, arms propping himself up.

Suddenly, the coldness from the fan above him whirled comforting air towards his body, sending a shiver up from his toes to his back. _I'm okay now,_ he assured himself. _Really I am. I think the entire day just got to me. I just…need a vacation, probably. I've been working too hard._

He sat there for quite some time, relishing in the cold air put off by his fan, before looking over at his tipped mattress and scattered sheets across the floor. Realizing that he had fallen, he rubbed his sore left side, gritting his teeth from the sudden pain. He didn't really want to go back to bed yet, though his drooping eyelids deceived his thoughts.

Before he made any further decisions, he staggered to his feet, using his small desk next to his bed for support, and turned in the direction of the door. His legs felt like jelly, similar to what they had been in the dream, but he forced himself to continue forward and suppress the thought of crumbling grounds and everlasting darkness as he walked to the kitchen adjoined with his living room.

Opening a small cupboard, he grabbed a glass, filled it with ice from the freezer, and turned on the faucet, placing the cup underneath. Listening to the sound of running water soothed him, surprisingly, and he figured that the sounds coming from reality was what was calming him now. He turned off the faucet, brought the cup to his lips, and downed the glass in a few gulps. Phoenix wiped his mouth and repeated the process to refill his glass.

_Fresh air…Now I need fresh air._

Taking his full glass of water back to the bedroom, Phoenix realized that it would've been a bad idea to stand on the lanai in just his boxers. He looked around for his robe, found it lying across the back of a chair, and threw it over him, securing it at the waist with the ties. He grabbed his glass from where he had set it and walked to the balcony, unlocking the door, and stepped outside.

He could hear the faint sounds of cars driving by along the freeway and thanked himself for choosing a quiet neighborhood to live in. The fact that it was an _apartment_ he lived in made him shiver slightly, and discomfort settled in, but he assured himself that the Apartment Complex Case was over and done with. Still, he couldn't blame himself for being paranoid for the moment what with the dream and all.

Phoenix took a moment to breathe in, smelling wood smoke from some odd miles away, mixed with the scents of the donut shop nearby (the employees were always there at spontaneous hours of the night), and the trees down below his third story complex. It was always like this in the fall for as long as he could remember. The only thing that was different was where he lived. However, scents linked to old memories never changed. He changed his thoughts to a different topic.

"That dream was far too weird to be something random. Then again…I _did_ have a random day." Though he tried to convince himself of an easier resolution to the problem revolving around the dream, he just couldn't shake the thoughts of the teacher, the boy, that hammer, and the man that had tumbled to his death.

Perhaps it was a prior case? "But…the boy in the classroom was me. How could that be a previous case?" _Unless I assumed the identity of one of my old clients?_

But who? And the feelings from within the dream seemed so real. Phoenix could've sworn that the crying was _not_ from within the dream, but, perhaps, caused from another memory—a suppressed memory—from long ago.

That thought prompted a muffled laugh. "Ch, yeah, right. And what would that memory be? I don't recall having a _terrible_ childhood. Grandma was always there to take care of me." _Then again, this memory thing seems familiar. But from where? _It took him a moment to think, but the flashback caught him off guard. _That's right, Edgeworth used to tell me about the nightmares he had. Since he's dead, now, could this dream…somehow…maybe be related to him?_

"And in what way? That would be stupid. The boy guiding me through the darkness was _not_ Edgeworth, or Larry."

But since he had ruled out both those ideas, what could it be?

He shivered again, like in the dream, when the cold wind hit him from behind.

--

Well? Sucked, huh?


	2. Reminiscing

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Phoenix Wright. But I do own Cameron.

**A/N: **A quarter of the way through the story, Phoenix talks to Maya about the trial solved at the beginning of the last chapter. It's slightly long and not relevant to the story until much later. If it gets too tedious to look at, feel free to skip it for now. Also, I know that the story Phoenix gives probably isn't perfect, but if there are any glaring contradictions, please let me know and I'll try to fix them. This is my first Phoenix Wright fic, so I'm not used to writing up cases.

And, as always, please RnR. Thank you to all those who reviewed the first chapter. I'll try a bit more to work on my pacing. Let me know if there's anything I could do better (with the exclusion of flames).

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**You, Me, And The War Between Us**

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**Chapter Two—Reminiscing**

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"Niiiiiiiiick! Open the door!"

Phoenix almost spilled coffee all over his desk in surprise when the violent poundings commenced against his door. He cursed, fumbling with the mug, but managed to successfully get a good grasp on it before coffee went everywhere. Breathing outwards, he scooted back in his swivel chair, preparing to stand.

"Nick! Are you _in_ there!?" A second round of bangs attacked the door and Phoenix got up from his chair, not wanting to see if the door was capable of being torn from its hinges.

He brusquely moved around his desk and headed out to the front room. He tripped once, hitting the coat rack and knocking all of the clothes to the ground. The lawyer restrained himself from cursing and continued ahead. Just before the person outside got another chance to scream out in the hallway, he tore the door open, a very sour look upon his face.

Maya stood there in her usual acolyte uniform, one hand gripping a bag while the other hung in midair, fist still formed. One glance at her partner's glare and she was all smiles, releasing her fist and moving it to behind her head.

"H-Hey Nick. Did I…interrupt something?"

The lawyer wasn't sure whether to be angry or pleased to see her. Because of her incessant pounding, he had almost ruined several important documents, caused himself injury, and there was a barricade of coats on the floor. Still, he hadn't seen her in ten months. Upon closer examination, he could see that she had matured slightly, becoming an inch or so taller with deeper features that pulled her away from teenage delinquency to an almost full fledged woman. _I'll bet she still __**acts**__ like a kid, though._

Her lips curled into a thin smile, lighting her eyes up in the doorway. Without any warning, she dropped her bag and lunged forward, seizing her friend in an unexpected hug. Phoenix was taken aback, and had to adjust himself against her weight. Maya's tiny arms tightened around him, and he slowly returned her embrace.

"How've you been, Nick?" Most of her words had been absorbed in his shirt, but he thought he could hear what she said.

"Uh, just fine, I guess. I thought you weren't coming home until next week."

She pried herself away from him at the moment his sentence ended, and he could her puzzled stare.

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Well, I got your letter yesterday saying that you'd be here next week. If I had known, I would've prepared, but I didn't get the chance."

"W-What?" she asked. "I wrote that letter _last_ week. You're telling me that you _just_ got it yesterday?"

"Yeah," he gestured to the back room where his desk was. "Your letter is still sitting on my desk…along with today's mail that I haven't gotten around to looking at yet."

Maya leaned down to pick up her bag, her raven hair cascading over her face and sweeping across the ground. When she stood back up, she pushed it back, combing several fingers through it.

"Oh," was all she said. He turned on his heel to walk back to his room and she trailed closely behind. "I see nothing's changed." Phoenix looked over his shoulder to see that her eyes were on her old desk.

"No. Why would it?"

She giggled. "Well, I just thought you'd rent out my desk is all. I didn't think you'd be able to manage all by yourself, Nick."

He frowned. "Gee, thanks. Glad you're back, too." She didn't catch his sarcasm. Rolling his eyes, he walked into the next room.

This time she didn't follow him, but instead began to rearrange her desk, setting her bag in her old swivel chair.

"Nick!" he heard her cry out. "You let my desk and stuff get all dusty! You're a terrible housekeeper!"

"I'm happy it's not evaluation month, then." He stooped over his desk, sorting through his mail, searching for Maya's letter to prove his point.

With one hand, he grabbed the new mail for today, and used his other to seek out the envelope. He was so wrapped up in looking for it that he was startled when a lone envelope fell to the table, bounced off, and landed on the floor by his feet. Diverting his attention from the desk, his eyes trailed down to stare at the heavy, white paper. Realizing that its outer contents seemed familiar, he dropped the other letters to his desk without looking, and knelt down to stare at it.

_No return address and…a sticker that has my office address on it…with _**my** name, no less. He bit his tongue when the memory came back to him with full force, and he snatched the letter up with one hand. Using his other hand, he tore open the top and grabbed the letter from inside. _Heavy…Feels damp, like glue…_Unfolding it, his eyes beheld huge, bold letters. _…Magazine cutouts…_His heart sank.

There, in the center of the letter, formed with the shape of magazine letter cutouts, were four words that cut clearly into his mind:

**BeTtEr WaTcH yOuR bAcK**

The letter didn't shock him quite as much the first letter, but there was an uneasy feeling deep inside of him that caused another kind of stir. Whoever it was that was sending these letters to him was not fooling around. A lump formed at the base of his neck.

He couldn't stop his other hand from shaking as he held the letter, fingertips sweating and leaving the paper wet. Phoenix closed his eyes momentarily, taking in deep breaths that sent a cool breeze into his lungs, removing the arising heat, but it was only minimally. _Guess I'm going back to Detective Gumshoe's office._ Past the discouraging thought, he tried his best to think of _anyone_ who was capable of committing such a heinous act against him.

"Nick?"

He was snapped out of his thoughts and quickly stuffed the letter back into the envelope, folded it in half, and shoved it into his pocket. "Um…yeah?" Standing up, he spotted Maya's letter out of the corner of his eye, grabbed it, and presented it to her as she walked into his office. "Here you go."

She took it from him, quizzically, and unfolded it. Maya stared at it for only a moment before pointing out the obvious, "This is my letter."

"Yeah, I know. I got it yesterday."

She turned it back to him and used an index finger to point out a small scribble at the top. "Look at this, Nick. It's dated ten-seventeen-seventeen."

Scrutinizing the letter a bit further, he realized that she was right. "Oh…"

"Is that _all_ you have to say? 'Oh?' You can do better than _that._"

He took the letter back, set it on his desk, and corrected her, "No, that's not what I meant. I mean, I just realized that, after looking through these letters here, all of my mail is a week behind." As though to prove his point, he picked up a bill from the stack of envelopes on the corner of his desk, tore the top open, and showed the date to her at the very top of the letter. "See?"

Indeed, the letters for that day were dated ten-eighteen-seventeen—something he had not noticed earlier. _So…that means that these weird letters I've been getting are dated back to last week. That also means that it's impossible to have received them from either Maxwell or Judy since they were only convicted yesterday. …Guess they're off the hook…_

"Ah," she agreed, "gotcha. Well, anyway, you're forgiven this time…"

"What? What did _I_ do?"

"…In any case, what do you say we go out to my favorite ramen place and get something to eat to celebrate my coming back to work with you?"

Phoenix looked back at her, almost perplexed. "Coming…back? How long are you here for?"

Maya grinned and responded with a "victory" sign. "Well, I came up for Halloween, of course! So probably a couple of weeks…_if_ that's okay with you…"

The lawyer quirked an eyebrow, "Your mountain people don't mind?"

"No, no, it was fine with them. But, hey!" Her eyes lit up again and she clapped her hands together. "I made some costumes for us to go trick-or-treating in!"

Staggering backwards, Phoenix stuttered, "T-Trick-or…treating? Aren't we…aren't we a bit _old_ for that?"

Maya's hands balled up and she put them on her hips. "Hey! You're _never_ too old to do _anything,_ Nick! Besides, did you _not_ hear me? I _made_ them _myself._ You're going trick-or-treating with me!"

Phoenix gulped, the idea sounding all too horrendous for him to comprehend or to really agree to. _What am I getting myself into?_ "Uh…what exactly _did_ you make…?"

Maya beamed in delight. "Well, I'm going to go as the Pink Princess and I made you a Steel Samurai costume."

"_GAH!_" He _knew_ it! It was horrible! Very, very horrible! He jumped backwards, crashing into his desk, and sent papers and letters flying. Swinging his arm back by mistake in an attempt to catch the falling objects, he hit his desk light and knocked it from the desk, causing it to tip and fall to the floor, the bulb shattering into hundreds of pieces, and the lampshade to collapse in on itself, denting one side.

He stared at the defeated lamp and the disarray around his desk, pitying himself and the moment he had stepped into the office. _Why? Why didn't I just sleep in?_

"Nick? Did I surprise you? I know you didn't expect me to go through with it, but…you're happy, right? You wanted to be the Steel Samurai this year, right?"

_No, not really…_ "N-No, it's not that…It's just…this is all so sudden…"

"Nick!" _Uh-oh… I fear she's going to start swinging and something more is going to get broken than my lamp._ "I put blood, sweat, and tears into making those costumes." Her arms crossed over her chest, tapping a single index finger against her elbow. "You're coming trick-or-treating with me." _She looks like Edgeworth when she does that._

Phoenix knew that when Maya got that way, resistance was futile. _But…But…__**why**__ do I have to be the Tin Samurai? __**Why?**_ "I…I guess so…"

She dropped her arms. "That's the spirit, Nick! We'll have a great time!" _Why am I not so sure about that? _She seized his hand and made a quick jerk back towards the door. "Now that we have that settled, let's go to the ramen shop!"

"W-Wait a seco—ACK!" Phoenix was yanked forward, and swore that his arm joint had been pulled out of its socket. Still, he had no choice against the young teenager, but that didn't stop him from getting out one last protest on the way. "I…I have no money, really. I went out with Larry to the burger shop yesterday and—"

Maya abruptly halted in her tracks, causing Phoenix to crash into the back of her. He stumbled, but kept his balance, and she spun around, eyes narrowed. "I _see_ how it is, Nick. You spend all your money with _Larry,_ when you can see him _any_ time you want to, but you don't want to go out and eat with me when _I _spend all this time and money coming back to see you."

"Well…when you put it that way…"

"You've got a _lot_ of nerve."

"I'll take you, all right?"

Maya's cheeks puffed out. He blinked and fished out his wallet, counting the money inside.

"It's all right, Nick. I'll just go see if Larry wants to come eat with me instead."

"Hey, don't be like that," the lawyer told her. "Look, forget I said anything at all. Let me buy you lunch, all right? My treat."

"I don't know, Nick. If we spend all of _your_ money, you won't have any money left to pay the rent." _…How did she know that I was still having rent problems?_

"If it was _going_ to be a problem, I wouldn't have offered to pay for you in the first place. Now, let's go."

He expected a long, drawn out argument, but was surprised when Maya became resilient and a big smile cracked at her face.

"Right! You buy lunch! You said it, remember? No going back on it, Nick!"

"Yes, yes I know." He put the wallet back into his pants pocket. "Let's just go before the place fills up. We'll go by taxi if that's all right with you."

Maya snickered. "You still don't have your license, Nick?"

…_How rude…_ "…One more word out of you and I'll _gladly_ let _you_ pay."

--

Maya was working on her fourth bowl of ramen. Phoenix was still on his first, but was spending more time gaping at his empty wallet. _Wait…was that _a _**moth**_ _I saw fly out of there?_ At this rate, she would eat him out of house and home…only because he wouldn't have any money left to buy groceries. Looking back and forth between his wallet and half eaten ramen bowl, the defense attorney realized that he no longer had an appetite…just like the day before.

Instead, he diverted his gaze away from his problems and to the surroundings. For a weekday, it wasn't surprising that the place was virtually empty. That was, of course, until evening arrived, and then the place was usually packed. Most of the employees were already on break, eating at tables off in far corners away from the duo. Phoenix glanced at his watch. It was twelve thirty-two. Drawing in a deep breath, he began to stir his chopsticks around in the small, deep bowl.

He heard the bell on the door to the entrance jingle as a newcomer came in, but he did not turn around to see who it was. Instead, he kept his focus on his designed bowl filled with fresh pork filleted ramen until his eyes traced down to the bare counter surface, recently polished, it seemed, and barstool at which they sat at. Phoenix looked up, realizing that he felt as though he were in a bar, pacifying himself with ramen to make all his troubles vanish. It was a crazy idea, he silently admitted, but he _had_ to agree with Maya that the ramen was good anyway.

It wasn't a very decorative place, he realized, with white walls and oak wood lining the ceiling and floor, and bamboo doors leading inside, as though it were really an ancient shack. It had somewhat of a strange atmosphere to it, but Phoenix let it roll off his back as he went back to trying to enjoy his noodles.

"So, Nick," Maya interrupted his thoughts, continuing to feed the noodles into her mouth. "Tell me, what have you been up to lately?"

"Hmm?" He looked briefly at her before returning to his bowl. "Oh…a little of this, a little of that. I wrote and told you about the case with the Chief of Police eight months ago, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well…that was the biggest case we had at the time. After that was over, everything just sort of…went back to being normal again."

Maya looked disappointed, as though she had expected some elaborate story. "Oh," she mumbled, perching her chin upon her hand. "I see. So you didn't have any clients after that?"

"Uh…I had a few, actually, all of which I had proven innocent."

"Really? That means you still have an undefeated record, right?"

"I suppose."

Her eyes turned to him and Maya pushed her ramen bowl away, as though something were bugging her. Phoenix had yet to find out _what._

"So…nothing else?"

He gave a crooked smile, the thought of how much time went into the Apartment Complex Murders. Still, it was a burden gladly released. "Well…I _did_ get a big case about a month ago that I just cracked yesterday."

"Gaaaaah, Nick!" Maya's mouth dropped. "Why didn't you tell me about that _sooner?_ And here I thought you had spent the past ten months being boring."

"Sorry to dash your dreams then, but it really _was_ a big deal."

"Well? Tell me! Tell me!"

"Uh…" Phoenix glanced at his watch. "It's…kind of a long story, Maya. I have to get back to work soon."

"Huh?" she blinked. "What's this 'you' stuff, Nick? You and I are both partners. Are you telling me that you've replaced me?"

"Well…Detective Gumshoe was asking if he could scoot in on it a little while back…"

Her eyes widened in fright. "You told him **no, **right?"

"Of course, of course. Don't give me that look. I wouldn't give up your position, Maya. You should know me better than that."

A smile broke at her lips. "I suppose. Sorry. I think…" Suddenly, her head lowered, "I think I was…scared…"

Phoenix quirked an eyebrow, "Scared?"

"Yeah…Of, well, change…I was afraid that you would've forgotten about me and replaced me."

The lawyer was dumbfounded. _Does she __**really**__ think I'm __**that**__ cold?_ "Maya…I told you the day that you left that I would be waiting for you to come back. Did you think that would change?"

She did not answer immediately. Instead, she pulled her ramen bowl back and began to slowly eat again. Phoenix rubbed his tongue over his teeth, wondering what she was thinking. Perhaps she _did_ think he had forgotten about her. _That's absurd._ "Maya?"

"I know." Her half lidded eyes rose back up to meet his. "I know. It's just…I was still scared."

Sensing her sincerity, he reached over and patted her hand with his own. Then, he held it there for a while longer. Her eyes quickly lowered to their hands, her mouth opening and closing, sounding out half formed words that neither of them could understand. Deciding to take the first stand, Phoenix adjusted his weight on the stool and waited for her to look back at him.

"Well…now you know that nothing's changed and everything is still the same as before. You're still my partner, you're still my friend, and none of that has altered in any way, shape, or form. Do you understand?"

She turned away and he could see that she was still uncertain, her eyebrows arched up in an almost lamenting manner. However, her eyes were shining, and betrayed her thoughts. Phoenix knew she understood.

"Now then," he began again, not allowing her time to give a verbal response. "I suppose we have enough time to hear the story. There's a lot to it, so I'm just going to cut back on the details a little…if that's all right with you." He waited for her nod and took a deep breath. "It all started about a month ago. I had just finished up a couple of other cases—nothing too major—when I received a phone call from a man named Joe Spencer. He asked me to come down to Detention and hear out his case. I was curious, so I went."

He paused for a moment to see if he had captured Maya's full attention. Realizing that he had, he continued, "I found out that he had been arrested for the murder of Ann Baxter and was also tied to three other murders that had happened within a two month period. His keycard had been found at the scene of the crime, as well as a few of his personal belongings and some of the murder weapons. He just moved here about three and a half months ago, so he could have hypothetically done the killings."

"Oh my," Maya leaned forward on her elbows, greatly interested. Her eyes illuminated under his words, and Phoenix was sure she was thinking that she was hearing a mystery story. "So the case was cut and dry, right? Was he really guilty?"

"I'm getting there," he replied over her impatient questions. "Just give me a minute." Maya settled back in her set, hands in her lap. "Anyway, he claimed that he was innocent. I'll admit, I was hesitant to take the case, but something kept bothering me. The guy was a real Goody-Two-Shoes. He would lend out his keycard because someone lost theirs, would let people have his clothes, food, and blankets, and would even drive out in the middle of the night to pick someone up. Someone like that just doesn't have the feel of a killer, you know?"

"So he's just like you?" Maya interrupted. At Nick's annoyed look, she burst out into fits of laughter.

_Yeah, laugh, laugh. Larry and Edgeworth called me the same thing._

"B-Be quiet! Let me finish the story!" He shifted in his seat, and folded his arms over his chest. He heard her giggle again and his brows furrowed.

"Sorry, sorry. Please continue, Nick."

He didn't open his mouth again right away, but, instead, continued to shoot daggers in her direction. She smiled and Phoenix rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, it seemed as though all of his friends had abandoned him—gave up and thought that he had done it. In a way…I felt like I was the only one who could help him, you know? Stand up for him and prove his innocence."

"Aw, Nick! That's so sweet!" Maya clapped her hands together, beaming.

He ignored her this time. "I decided to take the case in the end. It took me a while to prepare my attack, mostly because everything seemed to be set in stone, but the one thing that bought me time was the prosecution."

She had an inquiring look on her face, as though something did not make sense.

"Wait, you just finished the case yesterday, right?" He nodded. "It took you…a month to get through this case? I thought the trial limit was three days."

"Yes, but a case can't be put together unless the prosecution is ready…which they weren't. After all, they had to link my client to four cases, rather than one. Finding that kind of evidence and piecing it together for a case takes time. In this instance, almost three weeks. It wasn't until the fourth case that any witnesses came forward to accuse Spencer in the first place, otherwise he might've never been arrested. When Prosecutor Payne found out I was the defense attorney, the detectives were told to put together a perfect case despite the fact that the first three cases held no real suspect."

That prompted a giggle from Maya. Phoenix smiled back. "I take it that this 'Prosecutor Payne' guy has met you in court before?"

"When I was first starting out, yes. Anyway, I was lucky because Detective Gumshoe was the head detective."

"How did he help?"

Phoenix lowered his head, shamefully. "Truth be told, I was having a tough time handling this case. Everything was concrete. Spencer looked like the bad guy. It certainly didn't help when I found out that he was a participant in the 'Anti-Specialists' campaign."

"The…what?"

"Anti-Specialists," he answered. "It's a campaign to rebel against the rich inhabitants within the apartment complexes. Basically, the rich were renting out the rooms and pulling strings to increase rent on the poor and middle class citizens and tighten rules and regulations. In other words, eventually weed out those with lower income than themselves."

Maya slouched. "That's…terrible."

"Yeah. What made it worse was that all the victims were wealthy. So that's what definitely broiled Joe." He turned his head to gaze down at the countertop before continuing, his mind wandering in reverse. "That trial was set up to end the very first day. I still can't believe it."

"What happened, Nick?"

"Prosecutor Payne opened with the first murder. What had happened was that an old man named John Whitman was hit with a golf club in his apartment. The golf club had belonged to my client and the trail of blood led from out the door and back to Joe Spencer's room. The records showed that the last one to enter that room was Joe Spencer. It was pretty much a cut and dry case, and the witness the prosecution brought up first confirmed that it was Spencer's golf club."

"What then?"

"Well, during the cross-examination, she claimed that she had seen him move furtively into John's room. She said that she knew it was him because of the red and brown checkered jacket he was wearing. I asked her if she had noticed anything strange about the jacket. She replied that there was a big tear down the right sleeve." Phoenix had a large grin on his face, "…I had the witness right where I wanted her."

He saw Maya's smile and it made him more confident as he told the story.

"I asked if she was sure that she had seen the jacket have a tear in it. She replied that she had. I told her that it couldn't have been possible because he had torn that jacket four days later during a meeting at the Anti-Specialists Campaign.

"I explained to the witness that the jacket was in perfect condition during the first murder. Though she said that she had gone shopping with Spencer that very afternoon, she swore that there was a heavy tear in it. I told her that I had testimonies from participants within the campaign that Spencer had ripped his jacket four days later while on an activist's march. He had begun to cross a crosswalk when the sleeve got caught on a loose screw in the pole. Therefore, that jacket could _not_ have been ripped at the time of the murder."

"Hee, hee, very good deduction Mr. Lawyer," Maya winked. "Who was the witness, anyway?"

"Her name was Judy Summers," Phoenix replied. "She was one of the citizens that lived down the hall from Spencer as well as a friend of his."

"She'd rat on her own friend?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "That's cold…"

"It gets worse, believe me." He straightened his back to begin again, "Anyway, Payne objected again, saying that the jacket was a minor detail. I pressed that it **wasn't** because of how strongly the witness had talked about it." Phoenix cleared his throat, giving Maya enough time to imbibe his words. "Payne brought up the second murder. Three weeks after the first murder, a woman by the name of Sandy Deets was stabbed by a kitchen knife that belonged to Mr. Spencer. The window had been left opened and canine assistance proved that there was a scent coming from outside Deets' window that led to my client's back window. The infamous jacket that Ms. Summers swore she saw him wearing the first time was found under his bed. Luminol reactions showed that blood had been on that jacket and then washed away."

"Wow…" Maya gawked. "So, it really…was him?"

"No." Phoenix leaned back on his stool, just ever so slightly. "Spencer had an alibi. Two days after the jacket ripped, he took it to a tailor. I went by about a week ago to question the tailor. She told me that the jacket smelled strangely, but she figured that it could've been from neglect of washing it. She also said that she was surprised to see so much hair all over the inside because Spencer didn't have any hair in the first place. I agreed and took some hair samples from her.

"I presented it in court against Payne's next attack. Judy had also claimed to have been a witness to the second murder. I asked why she hadn't contacted the police after that point and she said, 'there wasn't enough proof at the time.' I rolled my eyes at the response, asking if Spencer had, at any time, lent her the jacket. She denied it. The judge was on the edge the whole time. He demanded to know whose hair it was that had been found on the jacket. That's how I got off the first day without trouble."

Maya stared at Phoenix. "You got him off that day because of hair?"

Suddenly, his smile faded. "Well…when you put it that way…"

"That's incredible, Nick! To think that a simple jacket would be so important and hold so many clues!"

Phoenix chuckled. "Yeah, and things started getting more heated after that. Even though I had gotten him off the hook for the first day, there was still the matter of cutting all links from him to the murders. You see, fingerprints on both the golf club and knife were identified to be his. They were slightly smudged, but identifiable enough to make them evidence. I still had some suspicions about my client. And why had Judy been so insistent that that jacket had been torn when she first saw my client enter John's room? It didn't make sense."

"But, Nick…" Maya protested, "…what if the killer had been wearing gloves? Or hadn't touched the part where the fingerprints were found?"

"Exactly. It just didn't seem to add up. That's where's Gumshoe's help came in. He helped me get a look at the murder weapons. When I had them tested for other prints, the results came back negative. Gloves seemed feasible enough, but the awkward grip would limit the ability to attack.

"While I pondered this, Spencer told me that the jacket found under the bed during the second murder had been filed as a lost item by none other than himself. Then it hit me. Blood was on that jacket. Why on earth would the murderer file his own jacket as lost? I'd think that the killer would _want_ to avoid as much attention as possible, including trying to bring up items that had been at the murder scenes.

"I went to investigate Spencer's apartment. He said that he had lost his cardkey somewhere in there a month earlier and had to register for another one. The date of the claim had been four days before the third murder. He hadn't received another card until the next week. Until then, he had to use a guest pass in order to access his apartment.

"I had dropped my own guest pass on the floor and it landed by the base of the bed. When I stooped over to grab it, a shiny object caught my eye. There, stuck in between the mattresses was a solid, white card with bits of dried, crusty blood on the edge. I had it checked and found that it was a guest pass. I thought for sure it was Spencer's, but the results came back that it had been registered to an outsider with the last name, 'Ward.'

"In court the next day, Payne pushed on the three murders. I had formed a theory that an outsider had been committing these crimes using Spencer's coat, keycard, and utensils. The first witness was the same Judy Summers, who was returning to testify about the second murder. I asked if the name 'Ward' meant anything to her. She denied it. I told her that I had sent the hair strands in for testing as well as the murder weapons.

"Then, I presented the bloody keycard. Records showed that the cardkey had been registered on the same day as the third murder. Someone had broken into Abigail Hoffton's room while she was bathing, and drowned her in the tub. Fingerprints were not found on the victim herself, but a small shred of clothing had been found near the sink. It was black, and didn't belong to any of the clothes found in Joe Spencer's dorm. While it didn't rule out the fact that he could've gotten rid of the fabric, Joe said that he spent the four days he had been without a card at a local friend's house. His friend confirmed Spencer's statement, thus, he could not have committed that murder.

"I asked Summers again if she knew anything about the name 'Ward' and the scrap cloth. She denied it. I was certain that I was close in pressing her to the point of squealing, but the judge stepped in. He said that I had to prove that the first two murders did not link Spencer to them before I could try to remove doubt about the third murder. I showed him the hair again, explaining that they had been found on the jacket in Spencer's room. He seemed unconvinced, but then Payne hung himself.

"He told the court that the next witness he had was named 'Ward.' I asked why Summers had lied and Payne claimed that the witness and the next witness were not related. After that, things began to click into place. The reason why Summers had seen the murders, the man named 'Ward,' Spencer's clothes found at every murder scene, Summer's statement about the jacket being torn, and the hair on the jacket. My thoughts were confirmed when Maxwell Ward took the stand, claiming to have seen the third murder.

"Their testimonies were good, but I couldn't understand why it had only been them that had seen the murders. I pointed that out and Payne said that it was possible that the murderer had screwed up. 'Yes,' I had replied, 'but that doesn't change the fact that Ward is an outsider. If he had gotten a guest pass at the time, he would've had to been visiting someone in the complexes, yet we've heard nothing about this from anyone else. How is it that if Ward had seen the murderer and/or the murder, why wouldn't he have told his friend?' And, besides, who **was** the friend that Ward was staying with anyway?

"By this time, Maxwell Ward was sweating. I pushed him further, saying that a card had been checked in under his name on the day of the murder. The apartment complex policy is that the guest must tell the receptionist what room he or she will be staying in. When I got these records back, they claimed that he had been staying in Judy Summers' room.

"Trial was adjourned after that. I was convinced that I had found out the killers. Judy Summers had been hiding Maxwell Ward for some reason. Even though Joe had only been a suspect during the last three killings, the reason he could not be convicted was because of lack of proof. Half of the things found in his room were only discovered because of the testimonies given by Judy and Maxwell, yet, neither of them had stepped forward until after the fourth killing. Why? Yes, it's true that Joe's card had registered as the last that entered the room, and, yes, it's true that the every trail had led to Joe's window, but those were the only things tying him to the murders. Not even the weapons used were at the scene of the crimes. At that point, the murderer could've been anybody. It wasn't even until Judy and Maxwell spoke up after the fourth murder that Joe was apprehended and his room searched.

"I found out shortly afterwards from Detective Gumshoe that Summers and Ward were cousins, and an abnormal usage of Judy's card had been used during all hours of the night. I figured that she had lent it to him, sneaking him in and out of the gate whenever he needed. Also, those strands of hair were about the length of a normal male head, and seemed to match that of Ward's. Also, Summers claimed to have been friends with Spencer, sometimes borrowing his keycard to get into the gate. Only one thing remained, now.

"The fourth murder, Ann Baxter, had been stabbed with another knife belonging to Joe Spencer. Again, Summers stated to have been witness to seeing Spencer walk in at one in the morning. I knew that I would have to take her down somehow. I had learned that she was supposed to have turned in her keycard the night before the murder because she was getting evicted from her apartment. However, another record of her card showed up the day of the murder and the day after. Everyone thought my client had stolen Summers' card from behind the counter and used it to kill Ann Baxter.

"But that card was never returned. That was the last thing that remained in the trial. If I had found that card, it would solve everything. Ward was still in custody as a witness at that time, too. I went to his house, made my way inside, and began to look for the card. After a while of searching, I found it jammed in between the hinges of his bathroom door, blood on the keycard.

"It was perfect after that. I found important documents relating to bigwigs—both alive and deceased, in Ward's house. The more time I spent there, the more I realized that the killer was none other than Ward himself. Through all of that, I had finally figured out what had really happened in those four murders. In court that next day, Summers was the first witness…again. She testified that her boyfriend worked in the apartment complexes at the Security Center, in charge of handling cameras, cards, and the like. I confronted her and told her that I knew that she and Maxwell Ward were cousins. She had no idea how to respond.

"In that silence, Payne cleared his throat and asked her to testify about the fourth murder, in which she had seen Joe Spencer enter the apartment complexes. Summers said she saw him at one in the morning. I objected, showing her records that said that the last card key entry had been at twelve-thirty, exactly one hour before the murder of Ann Baxter. There had been no sign of an outside break-in, meaning that the intruder had to have come from within the apartments. Now that I think of it, I didn't have proof saying that it couldn't have been a resident, but I already knew that the last cardkey used that night was Judy Summers. Only…that was my trump card and I didn't want to use it yet. I told the court that someone had given the murderer a keycard that allowed him into Ms. Baxter's room.

"I brought up the fact that four murders in a two month period had been too hasty. The reason being was because the murderer was on the verge of losing all access to the apartment complexes. Now, remember when I told you that I had found all of those articles pertaining to bigwigs?" Phoenix waited for Maya to nod. "Well, I realized Maxwell Ward's motive for killing them and framing Joe Spencer. He was gathering valuable information that would give him access to accounting firms, networks, military secrets, and more."

Maya gasped. He cut her off.

"Joe Spencer was an easy target, someone they could frame. They had stolen his keycard, framed him with a guest pass, stole his jacket, knives, and golf club, and linked him to the murders in every possible way. Summers had been so sure of that jacket because she had given it to her cousin to wear, but she hadn't actually **seen** a tear in it until four days later."

"So she just made that all up to the court, then?"

"Right. But when I showed them the bloodied keycard, it was enough evidence to put them away for good. The blood test that had come back reacted to Ann Baxter's blood. I told them that I had found it in her cousin's house and that, though she had returned her keycard, was able to make her a duplicate in the room where her boyfriend worked. However, she successfully changed the access number to Ann Baxter's room. We questioned her boyfriend, who claimed that he was unaware of this, so he was let go because of a lack of evidence against him.

"I figure then that she had given her cousin the keycard, and that **he** was the last person to enter a room, which was Ms. Baxter's. That's how those two had been working: duplicating keycards, like Mr. Spencer's in the first case, and sneaking into their victim's rooms. They would've gotten away with it, too, but another thing that made them completely suspicious was how they were the only two witnesses for all of the murders. I guess they didn't think the trial would go so far, so they believed that they could get Spencer convicted with just their testimonies. Anyway, after the trial, the bailiff escorted the two of them out of the courtroom." Phoenix leaned back in his chair, tired. "And that's the end of that."

Maya's mouth was left agape. "Geez, Nick! That story was **looong!**"

"Told you it would be."

She giggled. "But I'm happy you told it to me, anyway. It was really cool! I'm still your number one fan, Nick!"

He burst out into laughter. "Glad to hear it, Maya. Let me know if you have anymore questions about the case."

She shook her head. "Nah, not right now. I just want to finish my miso ramen." He noticed her eyes were trailing over to the bowl of his pork fillet. He frowned, cupped his bowl, and scooted it away from her.

"Your ramen's over there. This is mine."

"Yeah, but…aren't you getting full? Maybe you should shar—"

"No."

--

Phoenix returned back to the office with an insistent Maya, who asked to help tidy up what the young attorney had left a mess. She swore that "Mia was right!" and that Phoenix would never learn to fend for himself.

"What would you do without me?" she chuckled after giving a long whistle, looking about the room that, she claimed, had fallen to despair.

He tried to ignore the crude remark and personally commended himself on his cleaning habits. _Besides, it's not __**my**__ fault that I have work to do. She's pretty lucky only having to worry about her mountain and her powers. I wish that that was all __**I**__ had to worry about…_

Phoenix retreated into the slumber of his room, awakening it with the flip of a switch, feeding light into every nook and cranny that had once been plagued with black solitude. He looked back into the front room, making sure that Maya was still occupied with whatever it was that she was doing, even if it _meant_ her turning the radio up full blast. The lawyer shut his door to asphyxiate the irritation from random bass beats and screeching electric guitars. _What do these kids __**listen**__ to nowadays!?_

To be honest with himself, however, Phoenix really just wanted the time alone. Ever since he had left the burger joint yesterday afternoon, a gripping uneasiness fell over him like a cold blanket, and he could feel shivers crawling up his spine. _After that case yesterday…I received these unexpected and terrifying letters. Well…maybe terrifying only to __**me,**__ but my life is on the line here! I…I have to know who it is that's sending them._

In one hand was that day's newspaper that he had only recently collected from out the door. He had forgotten it was there, what with Maya's unpremeditated arrival and all. Phoenix sat down in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, and leaned back into the softness of the fabric. Flipping back the front page, he began to scan for articles worthy of his attention. _Mostly for the business, really. The murder prints are usually what I read first._

There wasn't one, much to his dismay, but there were stories of thefts, break-ins, and juvenile delinquency—all of which were useless to Wright and Co. Law Offices, as far as where his big breaks came from. Robberies were fine to deal with, but he'd much rather have a challenge. He chewed on his bottom lip, turning the page and seeing an advertisement for a new Chinese Restaurant that was opening in town soon. His eyes skimmed over the words and a fancy picture, uninterested. _I'm surprised nothing was written about the case yesterday. That __**was**__ a big case as far as I'm concerned._

Maya was singing to the song on the radio, her voice pitched higher than the actual notes. He cringed, bringing his shoulders up to his ears in pain, the feel of breaking glass clawing at his eardrums and he wondered if the bleeding would stop if he shoved paper towels into them. Phoenix tried the best he could to withstand the agony, his eyes burning into the black font of a huge headline at the top of the next page. His brows arched.

**Five Year Murder Spree Finally At A Halt**

His attention trailed over the first few words until he suddenly caught himself humming to the same song that Maya was screeching to on the radio.

"Gah!" He buried his face into the paper and began to talk aloud, "Local precincts finally track down apartment complex killer, thanks to the help of the city's defense team…Aww, they could've at _least_ mentioned my name…But this _is_ the article I'm looking for…I think…"

Phoenix continued on, his mouth sloppily forming each word, digesting them into his mind faster than he could read aloud. Then he saw the word "partner." _Partner? Don't they mean "accomplice?" She wasn't __**exactly**__ accused of murder…_ "Wait a minute…" he looked back up to the headline. "Five years? But…But that can't be. I just took this case a month ago." _A five year case with the same pattern of killing? Coincidence? I don't think so._ His eyes jumbled over the next set of words and he frowned. "Breaching of local homes…murders of executives with extraordinary standings…Several different cities…" Phoenix threw the paper down. "There's more to this case than I was aware of."

The jarred feeling from within his stomach confirmed his thoughts. He immediately noticed the abnormal increase in his heart rate, pounding so fiercely, he swore it would explode from within his chest. _First these letters, and now this article. Are they related? Was Ward's cousin not __**really**__ his partner, but a temporary accomplice? If that's the case, then I think that there may be another explanation. _He briefly glanced at his watch. "Quarter past three. Detective Gumshoe might be down at the precincts." _If he is, I wonder if I can reopen the evidence to the case yesterday. There __**may**__ be a clue regarding this article and the letters I got._

He pushed himself from off of the couch, gave a sharp jerk, and made his way back to the door. Once opening it, he was blown away by the absolute volume of the radio and wondered how on earth Maya could afford to listen to it without going deaf. Nevertheless, he walked past her, not even wanting to _attempt_ to shout over her music. Just as he swung open the front office door, he was relieved when the exploding trumpets (or whatever they were) and crashing drums had ceased.

"Where ya going, Nick?" the curious teenager asked, a duster in one hand and a water pitcher in the other. Phoenix figured she was multitasking because the relativity of the two items were unrelated.

"Uh…down to the crime division where Detective Gumshoe works. I have to close up yesterday's case," he lied. _Why do I feel so uncomfortable with sharing my situation with Maya? Well…actually, I feel uncomfortable altogether._

"Aww!" she whined, throwing down the duster and empty pitcher. "Just give me a sec, Nick! I wanna go, too! I haven't seen everybody in so long! Say, whatever happened to Mr. Edgeworth? I'm surprised you didn't say that he was the prosecutor for that case you were telling me about because, for some dumb reason, he's _always_ paired on cases with you and—"

"No," he interrupted, shaking his head. "Not this time."

He flinched. Maya looked as though she were going to cry.

"Niiiiiiiick! Why not?"

"Because," he explained, his tone surprisingly even and low, "I'm only going to be down there for a minute. I don't even think he's working today, anyway."

"But _Nick,_ I came back to _see_ everybody. You're being so selfish!"

"I know, I know." He forced a chuckle and held a hand out in her direction, as though he were silently trying to say, _"No hard feelings."_ "Tomorrow, Maya. I promise."

There was a pregnant pause between the two and Maya stared at him, incredulously. "You…promise?" Maybe it was something weird. Phoenix never had to make simple promises to Maya like this one. "Nick, I…I don't know how to ask this without sounding weird, but…" He watched as she took a deep breath, drawing her shoulders back, and then stood up straight, "Are you feeling all right? You seem very…tense…"

Phoenix forced another laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, as he was unsure of anything else to do, and replied, "Heh, heh, good one, Maya. That seemed more like _you_ were acting weird. I've never seen you _that_ serious, you know?" When he looked back at her, he realized that her face did not share the same humor. In fact, it was completely devoid of emotion. He hastily added, "Why do you ask?"

Her mouth began to gape for a moment, and he could tell that she was preparing a four to five minute speech on what she thought of his behavior. _I have to avoid it. I __**need**__ to get down to the station! _As though making it a point to her, he glanced at his watch, faked a sigh, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Ah, I need to get down there or else I'll be late. Say, we'll talk later, okay? Wait around for me." Moving just as fast as he had his tongue, he slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind him, and brusquely made his way down the hall. He cringed when he heard a very angry voice.

"Wait _up_ for you!? You just _ditched_ me, Nick! I'll get you back for _this!_"

His shoulders were slumped. _She doesn't mean that…_ he tried to convince himself, _She'll be fine in a while…_

Phoenix's stomach churned when he thought of her doing something unkind like…spitting in his coffee or…dipping his keys into bacon grease. Something mean and nasty along those lines.

--

"Back again, pal? What for this time?"

The lawyer presented him with another envelope. "This, Detective Gumshoe."

Gumshoe looked at the spiky-haired attorney, puzzled, curved up one side of his lip, and took the letter. "Hmm…another one?"

"You catch on fast."

The detective pulled open the letter, tossed the empty envelope onto his desk, and unfolded the paper. "You and your secret admirers, pal. What's it say now?"

Phoenix wasn't sure if the detective had wanted him to answer the question, since he already had the letter in hand, so he didn't. Gumshoe's face was hidden behind the note, and the younger man watched as he nodded once, stalled, and then threw the note down.

"Pal! Have you been watching your back!? This letter means business! Turn around a moment and let me see if anything's there!"

Phoenix resisted the urge to facefault. His brows evened into a straight line and his eyes narrowed. "Detective Gumshoe…I don't _quite_ think that that's what the letter is implying."

"Oh."

"And I just recently found out that these letters are a week old. I guess something's wrong with the post office."

"So you're…just _now_ getting these letters?"

"That's right."

Gumshoe's eyes vacillated back and forth between Phoenix and the letter on the desk. "Let me guess…You want to check for fingerprints?"

"If it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all, pal." He turned and left the room.

Biting his lip, Phoenix cocked his head slightly, watching Gumshoe leave. He wondered if the detective would find anything this time. The culprit _had_ to mess up _somewhere_. Phoenix glanced around his desk, trying to find something to catch his curiosity. _It's still as unorganized with papers as ever. Guess it fits his personality. Hmm…other than that, it's pretty clean._

Leaning down over the desk, the lawyer chuckled as he realized that he could see his own reflection against the burnish of the wood. He made an exaggerated exhale of breath onto it, took his fist, and rubbed the fogged place in circles a few times. _Yup, he takes extra good care of it. I guess this is why Edgeworth's desk always looked this polished._ Then, a sudden pain struck him and he quickly looked away from the desk.

His eyes wandered over to the faded black and white metal nametag sitting on the surface. Scrutinizing it more meticulously, his mouth tugged down at both ends and a single eyebrow quirked as he saw a random assortment of stickers taped onto the plate. All were police related, with some small stickers of a police hat, handcuffs, and… _Is __**that**__ a sticker of the Blue Badger? How on earth were they able to pull __**that**__ off?_ The fact that the man had _stickers_ on his nameplate was already more than disturbing. Seeing his obsession with his own creation, the Blue Badger, only exacerbated the feeling.

Turning around altogether to keep his mind off of dead friends and stupid looking mascots created by not too bright detectives, Phoenix leaned back against the desk, trying to focus on his real reason in coming. _Sure, I wanted to find out if the person who is sending me these inappropriate letters eventually screws up and has fingerprints on the letter, but I __**really**__ need that evidence from the Apartment Complex Case back to find out if what I'm thinking is true._

Several more minutes passed, and Phoenix was afraid that he had scared off Detective Gumshoe until the older man walked out of the backroom, waving the letter at the lawyer.

"Pal, you got yourself a smart stalker. Only your prints were found on that letter." Then, giving him a skeptical look, he added, "Are you _sure_ you didn't write the letters yourself?"

Rolling his eyes, Phoenix snatched the letter back from him. "Yeah, like I _really_ have the time to write love letters to myself. Come on, what kind of guy do you take me for?" At the detective's uncertain stare and the opening of his mouth, the younger man cut him off, "…Don't answer that."

He stuffed the letter back into the envelope, readied himself to put it back into his jacket, and then paused. "Say…did you ever test the envelope for fingerprints?"

Gumshoe shrugged. "Wouldn't matter. There are too many fingerprints on it by then to make a clear deduction. Yours, the mailman's, the guys who deliver it to your office…The _real_ goods are what's _inside._ But, unfortunately, in your case, that would be a negative."

Unhappy with this response, Phoenix brutally stuffed the letter into his coat. "Okay, fine. Listen, there was another reason I came down here today."

"Oh?"

"I was wondering if I could borrow that evidence from the Apartment Complex Case again."

"Huh?" Phoenix jumped backwards as Gumshoe threw himself against his own desk, nearly colliding with the defense attorney's face. "You want _what,_ pal?"

"Eh…" Everyone was staring. The young man's eyes were hesitantly moving about the room, embarrassed to see that all the other detectives had stopped their work to see what the commotion was about. _If I had known he was going to react like this, I would've saved the question until later. Or wrote him a letter._ "N-Never mind…" he replied, defeated. "F-Forget I said anything at all."

"Oh…_no way!_" An angry finger was thrust in Phoenix's direction, and it made him jolt back even further, his face flushing beet red. "You don't make a request like that and pretend for it to be _nothing._ I could lose my _job_ over something like that! I nearly did…once before…and that was _your_ fault, _too!_"

"I…uh…I'll be going now…" The attorney turned slowly on one foot, shoving his hands into his pockets, and began to whistle to the tune, "Alouette, gentille Alouette." Everyone was still watching, their eyes beady and full of curiosity. Phoenix wished he could curl up into a little ball and disappear.

"Now, _hold_ on just _one_ minute, pal! Before you go taking off like that—"

"Everyone's staring, Detective."

Phoenix looked back at him, eyes emotionless, though his quivering lip betrayed his true feelings (Gumshoe didn't catch it), and he waited for the older man to sit down.

"I…uh…" Given some time to think about it, the lawyer figured the detective felt rather mortified now, his head lowering down to match the level of his shoulders. After a few moments, the other detectives lost interest and turned away. "Sorry you had to see me like that, pal."

Phoenix felt the situation safe for a moment and hesitantly decided to venture back to Gumshoe's desk. He pulled his hands out from within his pockets, placed them palm up, on the surface, and leaned forward.

"Look, I think I have an idea of where those letters are coming from. According to an article I read, Maxwell Ward had an accomplice in his murders for the last five years. I just wanted to check the evidence again to see if I could confirm the claim."

Gumshoe shrugged. "What piece of evidence would prove that point, pal? Without formal proof, I can't allow for you to take anything out of that locker."

"I think some of those articles I found at Ward's place might be proof enough. If I can take another look at the stuff found in his shack, I _might_ be able to tie them to an accomplice. If that's the case, I think I can pin the letters on him. Satisfied, now?"

The detective rolled his eyes in a slow circle and Phoenix wasn't sure if Gumshoe was skeptical or not. He was suddenly taken aback as the older man jumped up, a smile on his face, and said, "All right, pal. You have my permission. I'll take you to the evidence room myself. You remember the one down at the police station?"

Phoenix groaned. "You mean…the one from the case against Gant?"

"That's the one. Remember, that division is for violent crimes. I'd say that that last case was pretty violent, pal. So, anyway, since I was the head detective of that case, I'll be happy to escort you down there. Of course, I'll have to ask that you give back that evidence as soon as possible. If the Chief found out, it would be my neck."

Phoenix looked away from Gumshoe, wondering if this had been a good idea after all.

Not _all_ the detectives had stopped staring.

--

Phoenix walked into Wright and Co. Law Offices half past four, carrying an envelope about as thick as a dictionary. He was worried, remembering that he had left Maya on a bad note. At first, he saw no one inside, but he had to admit that Maya's desk looked spotless now. The only thing running was the small fan in the corner of the room. He figured that she must've turned it on. _We're in fall and she's __**hot?**_ _…Very strange._

He was just about to call out her name to break the silence when a blurry figure burst through the door that led into his office. Maya doubled over, a rather large grin plastered on her face. Her hands were on her knees and she was hunched, as though she were trying to catch her breath. Concerned, Phoenix was about to help her up when she suddenly straightened her back and threw her arms out to the side.

"Nick!" she cried.

"What?" his voice swayed, a mixture of worry and annoyance locked in between each other.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me that you were going to have company over!? I would've cleaned your office!"

His face scrunched and his eyes narrowed. "I'm not _expecting_ anyone over…"

She apparently didn't hear him. "I mean, I open the door and this guy is standing there and he's all 'is Phonics around?' and I ask 'who?' and—"

"Phonics? Who's that?"

"Beats me, but anyway, he tells me that he knows a Phonics Wrong and I say, 'oh, you mean Nick?' and he says 'that's right,' and I let him in and he looks around and—"

"Maya, you're talking _way_ too fast. What's his name?"

"And he sees the cell phone strap on my desk and says, 'oh, you like Pink Princess, too, huh?' and I can't believe it! I mean, when I saw him, I _knew_ he had to be related to you, but way more cooler, ya know?"

"Gee…thanks." Phoenix brushed past her, disengaging himself from his blue jacket. "So where is he now?"

She gestured to the door behind him. "In your office, of course."

His eyes widened as he put the coat on the coat rack. "_What!?_ That's _my_ office!"

"Yeah, but…we were talking about the Pink Princess and he said that it was on and that he had never missed an episode since it first aired, even though they've cancelled it now…" Maya saw the angry look on her partner's face. "It's over, now, Nick. You can go in and talk to him if you want."

"If I _want!?_ It's _my_ office! Of _course_ I'm going to go in and see who it is!" He jerked his body and tore the door open. His eyes were clouded with infuriation and his mouth was twitching.

There, leaning back in _his_ recliner, with his feet propped up on _his_ desk, eyes glued to _his_ mini television, was a man with dark hair, turned away from Phoenix. Maya poked her head in, looking around the lawyer, with a big grin on her face. For a moment, no one spoke. Then, Phoenix heard the recliner groan under the man's shifting weight.

"Geez, that was the best episode of Pink Princess, yet," the man said, his voice deep and tinged with a mild accent. "Of course…the best part would be if they would add the Steel Samurai into it, too. Those two together would be awesome." A slight chuckle escaped from the back of his throat. "They should've made _me_ the director of Global Studios. Not that…Salisbury Steak guy…"

"Sal Manella," Phoenix inattentively corrected, trying to keep his voice even and well tempered.

"Hey, Nick!" Maya whispered with an excited twinge. "You remembered the director's name!"

Phoenix ignored her as he waited for the other man to turn around, his hands clenching into fists. It took a moment, and the lawyer was losing patience. The man leaned forward to turn off the television, and then spun himself in the swivel recliner before halting, face revealed. He was an older man, probably in his late twenties to early thirties. He had raven hair that was pulled to the back in small spikes. Over his right eye, a glob of hair that was too thick to be considered a cowlick stuck out, almost in an unkempt manner. In his left ear was a silver post, reflecting against the incandescent lights on the ceiling above. His friendly, rust colored eyes twinkled with the same brightness, and his mouth stretched with such a warm smile, that it made Phoenix almost forget his anger…_almost. _Phoenix could have sworn that the face was somehow familiar, but…how? He could feel that there was a memory there…teasing him—something he couldn't quite remember.

The man scratched his unshaven chin and used the other one to dust off imaginary lint from his blue v-neck. His eyebrows were thick and lifted upon the sight of Phoenix and Maya.

"Phonics! How long has it been?"

Then, all at once, it hit him. He couldn't believe it. _No…__**NO! **_He gasped, staggering backwards into Maya. _It can't __**be!**_ "Y-You're…!" Maya had to catch him, and he heard her grunt slightly under his weight as she pushed him back to his feet.

The man chuckled. "You look as though you've seen a ghost," he remarked, standing to his feet and stretching his back. "Then again, I can't blame you. It's been what? Eighteen years? I don't expect you to remember me."

"C-Cameron!?" The lawyer's jaw dropped to the ground and he nearly fell forward until Maya reached around him and pull him back to an upright position.

The man named 'Cameron' bowed. "In the flesh, Phonics."

Phoenix's mind shut down. This was _too much_ on top of everything else going on in his life, and now…_he_ was back. The anger returned. "It's _Phoenix!_ Gosh! I mean, I _know_ grandma told me that you were still suffering from the accident, but since you were _fifteen?_ How long does a _temporary_ brain concussion last?"

Before Cameron could respond, Phoenix heard Maya gasp behind him.

"Nick, you mean…you _know_ this guy!? Is he like…a friend of yours?"

The lawyer paused, clearing his throat, and looked from her to the man before him, who was still grinning as wide as ever. Phoenix still couldn't believe he was really there. Why? How? And, just for once, could he get his name _right,_ for crying out loud? "_Know_ him? I can't believe he's even standing in _front_ of me! I—"

"Don't be so brutally honest, Nox." Cameron blew the loose fringe from his eye. It was a futile attempt and it landed back in the same spot. "Mary here told me that you already have to be that way in court."

"_Maya,_" Phoenix absentmindedly corrected before Maya could get the chance to. "And _that's_ what I want to know about, Cameron. I lost contact with you eight years ago when Mom moved away to…God knows where. Grandma moved two years ago, so I don't see how you would be able to get into contact with her. So the _real_ question is…how did you _find_ me?"

The man laughed. "Ha! Always so presumptuous. Thinking I came out here all this way to find you…" Cameron rubbed his chin again. "Well, actually, I _did._ See…I heard that you're a pretty famous defense attorney, Nox. Took me a while to find you, but someone finally let out the scoop."

Phoenix's eyes widened and he blinked several times, the announcement catching him off guard. "Who said that?"

"Huh?" Cameron appeared just as off guard as the lawyer did. "Well…I…uh…just people, ya know? Can't remember them. Could've been the baker or something…"

Phoenix rolled his eyes. _That temporary memory loss will never heal, I see._ "Very well, Cameron. What brings you here?"

The older man looked offended. "What? I spend _all_ this time coming out here, and you make it seem like I'm _burdening_ you? Geez, thanks for the hospitality, brother."

"B-Brother!?" Maya shrieked. Phoenix had to cuff his ears for the moment. "He's actually your _brother,_ Nick!?" Then, she pouted, "You never told _me_ about him!"

The defense attorney was sure that Cameron was going to take even _more_ offense to it, but, strangely, he just let it roll off his back. "Typical Nox, ya know? Yeah, we're brothers. Guess he forgot about me, what with the eighteen year separation and all…" Cameron cleared his throat, "Took some time off. Found you and figured that I'd come here to see you."

"Eh…" Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck. "That's…very…kind of you, Cameron…" The current situation with the letters kept poking at him and he cursed Cameron for not choosing a better time to show up. _Why __**now**__ of all times? Eighteen years and he decides to show up __**today? **_Phoenix thought bitterly. "How long are you staying for?"

"Heh, couple days, couple months, maybe even a couple years. Who knows? All I know is that I'm staying with you."

"What?" Phoenix wasn't surprised, really. Cameron was always like this. _God, all this time and Cameron hasn't changed a bit._

"Hey, you should be _honored_ that I'd want to stay with you."

Phoenix certainly didn't want to offend his brother, but it was such an inconvenience that… "Eh…wouldn't your boss get angry at you? Where are you working, anyway?"

The older man shrugged. "Oh…jack of all trades, really. In fact, the last job I was at said that I could take a permanent vacation because they loved me so much. Sweet of them, don't you think? I need to remember to send them a bouquet of flowers to show my appreciation."

Phoenix wanted to facefault. _Uh…Cameron? I don't really think that…_ "I…uh…" He slumped over, defeated. "This is very…random, Cameron. You could've at _least_ sent a letter…" _Like Maya did…_ "But…I guess you can…stay at my apartment for a little while…"

"Hey, sweet! We'll stay up late and make popcorn and have pillow fights just like we used to!"

"…" _We were __**kids,**__ Cameron…_

"Yay!" Maya cheered, clapping her hands together. "You have to invite me over, too! It'll be great!"

"You bet your socks you can come! We'll invite the whole neighborhood, right Phonics?"

…_I feel sick…_

Phoenix turned, hand at his mouth, and rushed towards the toilet.

--

Please RnR (minus the flames).

Mysterious Loser


	3. Narrow Escape

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own Phoenix Wright, House of the Rising Sun, Mission Impossible, Shadow Hearts, Kato, blah, blah, yeah. I own Cameron and the killer and stuff…

**A/N:** Back, older, probably not any wiser. That's why I'm attempting with this story again. I even have a wonderful helper, thanks to the suggestion of one reader.

(A powerful man walks in, elegance radiating from him. He, amazingly, bears a resemblance to one Masaji Kato—man of Shadow Hearts. He wears a proud smile, a curled strand of hair tapping against his forehead.)

Ah, it's Mr. Gumshoe, right on time.

(The man holds up a hand, decorated with several jewel embroidered rings.)

"Please, please," he says, a deep, dignified voice filling the room. "Gumshoe-_sama_ will be just fine."

Oh, that's right, Mr. Gumshoe-sama. My apologies.

(Mr. Gumshoe is very rich now.)

"Gumshoe-_sama_, if you don't mind. I think I've earned it." Gumshoe-sama brushes a hand against his slicked back, ebony hair. His cape ripples behind him and he dusts off his navy military attire.

(Gumshoe-sama is a very powerful man now. More literate and definitely not stupid.)

"Psh," Gumshoe-sama laughs. "As if I was **ever** illiterate and stupid."

(Of course not, Gumshoe-sama.)

"Now then, my child. You may begin the story…but not _before_ you kiss the ring." He holds out a hand, where one expensive and elaborate ring stands out above all the rest. He wiggles his fingers.

Now, kiss the ring.

**You, Me, And The War Between Us**

**--**

**Chapter Three--Narrow Escape**

**--**

After the night Phoenix Wright had, it wasn't strange to find him brewing his fourth cup of coffee. He hadn't expected to be riding home with Cameron that night. Heck, he hadn't expected to see Cameron at _all!_ It had been eighteen years since their last time together. Of course during that time there had been a few letters, one long distance call, and several Christmas cards with pictures of each other as they grew, but nothing could ever fill that maturing hole between them. Phoenix could never understand why. He had never wanted that kind of estranged relationship with his brother, but since they lived far away from each other, it was inevitable.

Cameron lived with mom. Dad was gone. Phoenix lived with his grandmother. But why had that happened? He couldn't remember.

Maybe…he didn't want to remember?

He had come back from the bathroom right after Cameron's announcement about his living arrangements, ill and unhappy. His anguish wasn't directed at Cameron so much as it was toward his unfortunate predicament, but Cameron's sudden arrival didn't help any either. He wanted to catch up on lost years, that much was true, but he was afraid that if he had become distracted even for a mere _moment,_ the culprit sending him these horrible letters would slip past his fingers and do something…unpleasant.

All the way home on the bus, Cameron chattered away to anyone who'd listen. Phoenix kept his concentration on the pull above him.

"So, I hope your apartment's cleaner than your room was, Phonics. I remember this one time you had a one-man pull wagon for your cowboys and Indians set and I walked in and stepped on it—"

"That was _your_ wagon, Cameron, and _I_ stepped on it because it was at the bottom of the stairs."

Cameron appeared thoughtful. "Oh yeah, huh?"

They arrived at the apartment and Cameron took the liberty of becoming his own tour guide.

"Wow, Nox! Your bathroom is _huge!_"

"It's a two bedroom apartment, so you can take the room across from the bathroom. My room is down the hall." Phoenix set his briefcase down and removed his coat.

He heard the door to his room open and Cameron was saying something about the lanai. Phoenix quickly rushed to his brother's side and instructed him to be careful with the plants outside. Cameron hung himself over the side, staring at all of the cars below in the parking lot.

"You got yourself quite the scenery, Nox."

"It's _Phoenix,_ and I'm glad you like it, but don't hang over the side like that. You might fall."

"I appreciate your concern," the older flashed a smile, "but I'm a professional climber."

"Yeah, I remember hearing about your 'professionalism' with the tree in the backyard."

"It was an off day. I don't count that."

"You ended up in the hospital for a week!"

"And then I was all better. Oh, hey, is that a TV? You get basic cable, right? Steel Samurai comes on everyday on channel fourteen!" Cameron wandered away, leaving Phoenix on the lanai.

Cameron was back. He didn't know why. Phoenix didn't even know why he had left in the first place.

He had asked his grandmother about it once, but her circuitous answers made him regret asking at all.

Then, eight years ago, he heard that his mother had moved away to somewhere he could not follow, even if he wanted to. She was one who never kept in touch, so Phoenix shared his indifference by ripping up her new address that grandma had given him. Other than that, he remembered nothing of his past.

All he knew was that when he was seven, he had been torn from his family and forced to move to this city to live with his grandmother, on his father's side. At first, the transfer to the new school had been difficult and he found that making friends was not as easy as granny had promised.

He remembered being homesick, but it hadn't lasted for long and he didn't know exactly _why._ Slowly afterwards, everything had slipped from his mind. At times, though he felt ashamed for feeling so, he would forget that he ever _had_ another family. That's why, he figured, he had been so surprised to see Cameron in the first place.

_I even treated him like…a client…as though we weren't of the same blood at all._ He frowned. _I can't let what mom and dad did to us affect my relationship with Cameron. It's not his fault all of this happened. He hasn't been the same since the accident._

It didn't help that Phoenix was also busy trying to solve a mystery that somehow entangled him in it.

After that, Phoenix found Cameron preoccupied with the TV, and he locked himself in his room, typing away at his computer and glancing through articles and papers that were once located in Maxwell Ward's small shack. At first, Phoenix couldn't find anything useful. There was nothing in the pile except for articles about rich bigwigs—both alive and deceased. Some headlines were marked with "Rippon," which he figured was the name of the town where the crimes took place in.

Curling one end of his lip in frustration, he had begun to tap away at his computer, surfing the internet for local newspaper distributors in the city and several miles outside. He grew bored after a while, losing hope on finding_ anything_ that would solve his mysterious stalker, and his eyes darted to the clock.

_One twenty-three. It's getting too late for me to continue this…but I have to. This evidence has to be returned tomorrow._

Deciding to check one more site, he had gone to a distributor's page twenty miles west of the city, and began to flip through pages of article headlines.

_This is getting me nowhere._ He spotted a search engine, "Can't hurt to try."

_Maxwell Ward…_

Click.

The page refreshed and he drummed his fingertips on the end of the computer desk.

_Thirty-two matches found._

Flashing headlines had appeared at the top of the screen.

**Murders Continue Around the City**

**Police Reports for 6/22/14**

**Two Men Arrested on Suspicion of Theft**

_The bottom one. Perhaps I'll find something there._

He clicked on it, waited for the page to load again, and then frowned.

_I have to __**pay**__ for the article!? …What a rip…It might not even be what I want._

Groaning, he tapped the 'buy now' button for ten cents. Filling out the blanks and signing the Wright and Co. Law Offices as the purchaser, he put the business card away in his wallet, grumbling.

Another page popped up on the screen; Phoenix realized it to be the article that he had just bought on the computer. His eyes skimmed over the headline once more before diverting away from it, the small scribble of font catching his eye.

"Men suspected of grand theft auto…blah, blah…caught last night in local diner…who cares…down at the precincts for…blah, blah, blah…questioning lasted until…whatever…Ah! Here it is…" He leaned back in his recliner, listening to it squeak beneath him. "Two men are suspects in this case. One is known as local burglar, Maxwell Ward, while the other is known simply as 'Doe.'" Phoenix could feel his eyes narrow. "Doe? What the…?"

_Picture…there __**has**__ to be a picture!_

He had scrolled through the intricacy of the words until his eyes caught sight of a small graphic. Under it the caption read, "Doe has been unidentified yet due to a lack of cooperation. A picture has been provided for any witness help."

…_Lack of cooperation? Well, I wonder if they eventually got his name, but it took so long to find these articles, I'm not sure I'm up for the hunt right now._

Nevertheless, he _had_ a picture. It was fairly large and showed the sharp, clear image of a man in his late thirties. His buzz cut hairstyle reminded Phoenix of a military man, and his eyes were big and baggy. His nose showed evident signs of having been broken before and deep creases formed on both sides of his chapped lips. Several tattoos of unfamiliar designs coated the sides of his face and down along his neck. In one ear was a post and three, thin bands that looped around the cover of the ear at the top. His thick eyebrows were almost joined in unison, and Phoenix could tell that he was _most_ unhappy with having his picture taken.

"Well then, Mister 'Doe,' let's just see where this picture gets us. Heh, heh…"

That had been a long day indeed…

Phoenix was snapped out of his thoughts when the coffee began to bubble and overflow. He jerked his body forward, quickly turning off the machine.

"Bit of trouble, Nox?"

The lawyer rolled his eyes, the thought of his brother giving him a jeer not far from his mind.

_Accident or no accident, I __**think**__ he __**knows**__ what he's doing._

"If you're going to call me anything at _all,_" he began with his back turned, "I'd prefer _Nick_ to Nox."

"That's what I said."

Phoenix decided to digress from the current disagreement, and grabbed the handle of his coffee mug, spinning to face the older man. He was sprawled out on the couch, sofa hair sticking up all over the place. He was dressed in a dark blue robe, and watching kid shows.

"Uh…listen, Cam," the attorney began, "I have to go out today and try to find someone." His eyes refocused on the small table located in the kitchen, adjoined to his living room. Besides the vase with fake flowers settled there, the article with _Doe's_ face was lying on the surface. "I know you just got here and all, but I promise I won't be real long with this errand." He tried to force a smile for his brother, "Okay?"

"Ya…sure…" Cameron wasn't paying attention. His eyes were glued on the rerun episode of Steel Samurai—one that happened to be a favorite of Maya's. Phoenix shuddered. He had seen that particular episode so many times that he could recite it by heart.

"…I'll be off then…" the younger brother set his mug on the counter in the kitchen and straightened his tie. His eyes continued to watch the engrossed man, "…to work…"

…_Maybe he didn't hear me the first time._

The seconds turned into minutes and Phoenix glanced at his watch. He didn't _have_ to be at Wright and Co. Law Offices, though he _did_ feel bad about asking Maya to watch the place while he was out man-searching. He knew that that was not the way she wanted to spend her vacation here, but this was too important to let go. Still, he was surprised when she agreed, and without hesitance, too. He still had to stop by to collect the mail.

Picking up the steaming mug and bringing it back to his mouth, Phoenix chugged the last half of the hot liquid, feeling it warm his throat all the way down into his stomach. It was a nice, tepid sensation, and it washed away his drowsiness a little bit more. Placing the cup into the sink, his ears caught sound of clashing spears and running feet.

_Oh…this is the part where the Steel Samurai saves the innkeeper's daughter from the hands of the Evil Magistrate. I have to admit, though it's kind of dumb to, I was on the edge of my seat the whole time. Maya was clutching my arm with fear in her eyes, as though she were afraid that the Steel Samurai wouldn't make it in time._

He walked into the bathroom around the corner, wetted his toothbrush and lined it with paste. Phoenix turned as he stuck it into his mouth, scrubbing at his teeth as he listened to the television in the other room. Cameron had it up pretty loud, but the younger man didn't complain. This was the best part of the episode.

_Ah…the climactic scene where the Steel Samurai makes the daring leap into the fire, risking his own safety, and finds the girl bound and gagged in the corner. Just as he is about to release her from her shackles, he is ambushed by several of the Evil Magistrate's minions. They wear him down and the smoke sends him to his knees. But…just then…a secret force emerges from within the Steel Samurai, and the hut crumbles into the fire. Where is the Steel Samurai?_

"There he is!" Phoenix heard a man shout from on the television. "Look! Up at the moon! He's carrying the girl in his arms!"

The Steel Samurai theme song began to play triumphantly in the background as Phoenix imagined the camera panning up towards the face of the Steel Samurai. He knew this part all too well. He heard his brother clap at the TV, whistling, and then Phoenix looked around the corner just as Cameron was pumping his fists into the air.

The lawyer rolled his eyes in annoyance as he spat into the sink, rinsed, and placed his toothbrush back into the holder. "Grow up, Cameron," he mumbled, halfheartedly.

_Though, should I __**really**__ be saying that? I think I was doing the same thing when I saw that episode._

Phoenix found himself smiling.

The credits were rolling after that and the narrator came on, saying something that foreshadowed the next episode…along the lines of utter and total defeat for the Steel Samurai. Of course, as he remembered Cody Hackins saying, the Steel Samurai _always_ wins.

"Man…that had to be the best episode _ever,_" he heard his brother say as Phoenix walked out of the bathroom.

"You are _way_ too obsessed," the attorney remarked, moving toward his briefcase. He opened it and stashed some papers inside. Once done, he locked it up and pushed it behind the couch. "Anyway, I already told you that I had to go out, right?"

"No," Cameron blinked, his odd stare causing tension to form within Phoenix's muscles. "When was that?"

"…Never mind. Look, I have to go out for a little while, but I'll be back before long. Okay?"

"Yeah, sure. I know you have work to do. I'm not complaining."

The younger man's face scrunched with confusion.

_Sometimes I think he's ADD. And other times…well…He hasn't been here __**long**__ enough for me to judge him, yet, anyway. I'll give him more time._ "Uh…thanks." he turned towards the table and reached for the article with _Doe's_ face on it.

"Say…who are you looking for, anyway?"

Phoenix dropped the paper in surprise. Spinning around on one foot, he asked, "You…actually heard me?"

"Well, I didn't _ignore_ you if _that's_ what you're insinuating. Who are you looking for?"

_Completing the thought from before…Other times, he just catches me off guard._

"Ah…Uh…Well…" Phoenix reached over to the makeshift coat rack on his wall, and began to dig through the pockets of his blue coat until he finally emerged with two letters. He tossed them in his brother's direction, "Whoever it was who sent me these."

Cameron caught them easily, and pulled back the tear on one of the envelopes, using his other hand to yank out the paper from within. Phoenix patiently waited as he unfolded the first letter, read it, and then repeated the same process with the second. The elder Wright shook his head and handed the letters back.

"Sounds like trouble to me," he said as the lawyer folded up each of the letters and stuffed them back into their envelopes. "Do you have any idea who the culprit is?"

"…Sort of." Phoenix placed the letters back into his jacket pocket before handing Cameron the article with the picture that he had printed last night. "See that guy who they're calling 'Doe?'"

"Yeah."

"He's a suspected accomplice in one of the cases that I just recently closed. I believe that he _may_ have a grudge against me because I put his friend in jail." Phoenix waited for his brother to comment further, but when nothing came his way, he slowly asked, "What…do you think I should do?"

Cameron was silent a moment longer, causing more curiosity to swirl around within the lawyer. Phoenix opened his mouth to protest to the silence until his brother handed the article back, never giving it a second look.

"Me? I'd ask the guy what his deal was."

_What?_ The younger man's jaw dropped at his brother's idea. _What the heck did he just say?_

"Cameron, if I did _that,_ the guy would shoot me for sure. What would you have me do, walk casually up to him and ask what his grudge against me was? I'd come back with _no_ face and in a _casket._"

"Well, hopefully it won't be an open coffin funeral." Phoenix glared at Cameron, prompting him to change the subject. "Hmm…" Cameron didn't seem to be catching on. He scratched his unshaven chin, ignoring the fact that his hair had fallen into his face. "All right, Mr. Big Lawyer…" he shifted positions on the couch, getting more comfortable, "…if I were you, I'd follow him."

"I can't drive."

"Well…learn."

Phoenix did not like that resolution. He did not like that resolution at all. But…following the man (considering _if_ he found him) did not come off as a _bad_ idea at all. _If I want my answers, sometimes I have to do anything it takes._

"Well…I guess you're right." Phoenix folded the article and turned towards the door. "Hey, if you get bored, you can always go by the office. I'm sure Maya would enjoy your company. You two can talk Pink Princess and…all that stuff."

Cameron stared at him, but said nothing. _What? Did I say something wrong?_ "Uh…do you want the key?"

The elder brother shrugged, "I guess. Mary isn't that bad of company. It might be fun."

"…It's _Maya,_ Cameron."

"Right. I said that."

Rolling his eyes, Phoenix pulled the key off of the ring and tossed it in his brother's general direction, "Don't lose that key. I need it for work."

"Aye-aye, Captain," the older man's eyes had turned towards the television, almost zoning out completely.

_He's watching TV again. He's not even paying attention anymore. _Phoenix let out a heavy sigh, and grabbed his coat from off the rack. "See you later, Cameron."

He stepped outside the door, flipping through his wallet, wondering if he had enough money for a taxi.

--

Phoenix rapped his knuckles against the door several times, exasperated groans following afterwards, and he immediately regretted letting Cameron take the key to the office. He called out the acolyte's name for the twelfth time and let another string of words tag along behind. Frowning to himself, he began to kick the door.

"Open up, I say!"

He glanced at his wristwatch, and groaned. _Eleven-thirty. Another rerun of Steel Samurai is on. Maya! Graaaaaaaaaah!_

She was probably lounging in his recliner (she often tried to bribe him to switch desk chairs with her, which would lead to some fight and discouraging thoughts), spinning around in it, and watching his mini television. He could almost picture it now: Maya holding a big bowl of snacks…or ramen…whichever came first…the fan turned on full blast, and the volume on the TV cranked up beyond what was considered 'legal' so that disturbing the peace was in session.

Phoenix rammed his body against the door, nearly knocking it from its hinges, and his eyes darkened, "Mayaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

When the door swung open, he was surprised that he hadn't toppled inside. _Must be my incredible balance. Yes! Mad skills!_

"Maya!" Phoenix's face was budding red, his arms crossed over his chest. The young girl stood there, a dumbfounded look plastered across her usually bright face, holding the doorknob with one hand. "_What_ have you been doing? I've been standing out here all this time waiting for you to open the door!"

She blinked, her eyes wide. "Don't look at me as though I've been doing something I shouldn't. I was cleaning your _desk_, Nick." Then she laughed. "No wonder you couldn't hear me. My headphones were on."

He thought about this excuse for a moment, but then countered, "That's no excuse. What's the door doing being locked, anyway? These are _business_ hours, Maya."

She rolled her eyes, shrugging off his words with another laugh. "I was _cleaning_ your desk, Nick," she repeated. "I didn't want anyone to stumble in and see what a pigsty it was."

"_Hey!_"

"Where are your keys, anyway? You shouldn't _have_ to beat against the door."

Hitting a sore spot, Phoenix straightened his back and cleared his throat. "Um…about that…I gave them to Cameron for now."

"Huh?"

"I need…to run down to the precincts again for a little bit. I just came here to get the mail for today."

Maya looked about the office, a small whimper emitting as a sad look overtook her pretty face. "Niiiiick…you _promised_ I could go with you the next time you went down there."

"Yes, well…" His trembling fingers were raking through his hair, and he realized that he was failing to make eye contact with her, "This is more of a man-searching trip, Maya. I'm not staying there for long…"

"That's what you said _last_ time and you were gone for over two hours. Come on, Nick!"

He stepped around her and into the office. His eyes moved to his desk in the next room, looking for the mail. He heard her sigh and watched as she directed him to his office. He said nothing when he walked in and saw the hefty pile bundled up on his desk. _Most of them are just bills, anyway._ Phoenix gathered up the letters, sorted through them, and his eyes stopped on a familiar trademarked letter.

"Nick?"

She broke his concentration. He singled the letter out, put it in his pocket, and set the rest back onto his desk. "Ah, well, w-why don't you call up my apartment and have Cameron come over? You two could talk Pink Princess and Steel Samurai."

He watched her stomp her foot and slouch her shoulders. He hated seeing her become this way.

"Nick, I came back to spend time with my _friends. __**You **_included!"

"Well…It never hurts to make new friends, Maya." He saw the scorn in her eyes and he tried a different tactic, "…He has trading cards."

All too suddenly, he saw her resilience take effect, a bright smile coating her face. "What? Trading cards?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "in two binders that look ten inches thick."

"_What!?_ That's _insane!_"

"He showed them to me."

She stared at him, skeptically, and then her eyes trailed to the phone, an unmistakable desire becoming apparent through her twitching lips. Phoenix wanted to sneer. There were many ways to please this girl, even if only temporary. He felt bad, but he just _had_ to find the man who was sending him the letters. And besides, Cameron _did_ have two ten-inch binders back at the apartment.

"All right!" she thrust her fists into the air, elated, and bounded towards the phone. "Think he'll come down?"

"For a fan? Absolutely."

"What about trade? Think he'll trade?"

Phoenix's face was turned towards the unopened letter that he knew was another threat from the mysterious stalker. His fingers were trembling, the thought of opening it frightening him for some strange reason. "Without a doubt."

While her attention was drawn, he slowly padded back towards the door leading to the front room, pulling the letter out of his pocket with care. He could hear her jittery voice on the phone, most of the words incomprehensible as she spoke them faster than he could hear them. But as long as she was happy, he could get back to the matters at hand.

When he got outside the office, he had already torn the top off of the envelope and was busy fumbling with unfolding the letter. Inside, the big, black font caught his attention:

**WhOsE cOmFoRt Do YoU sEeK, nOw?**

--

Detective Gumshoe was on the phone when Phoenix arrived. When he saw the lawyer, Phoenix immediately noticed the drastic change in the older man's voice, growing softer and his hand was cupped over his mouth and the receiver, as though he were saying something too important for Phoenix to hear. The attorney pretended not to care. He was here on other business anyway.

He stopped short at Gumshoe's desk, eyeing the other man as he tapped the folder in his hand against his arm. He was patient enough, but secretly wondered what it was that the detective was talking about. _Or who he's talking __**to,**__ for that matter._ A silence overcame the atmosphere, and before Gumshoe could talk back to the other man, Phoenix had cleared his throat, as though to remind the detective that he was still standing there.

Gumshoe looked up at him and then back at the phone, "Uh, can you hold on a second? Mr. Wright is here." He covered the receiver completely with the flat of one large hand and asked, "What is it, pal? This is long distance."

"Well…" Phoenix withdrew the envelope that he had borrowed from the evidence room the day before. He set it upon Gumshoe's desk, "I thought that you might want this back, first of all."

The detective gawked at it, as though he couldn't remember what it was. Instead, he said, "I didn't think you'd have it back so soon."

The lawyer shrugged. "I'm a man of my word, Detective. I just wanted to thank you for lending it to me. It was a tremendous help."

Gumshoe stuffed it under his desk, holding the phone in one hand. "I'm happy to hear that. You must've been up all night looking through it to find what you wanted so fast."

Phoenix whistled, "You bet."

"Did you find the name of the guy you were looking for?"

_All right, here it is. Just lay it to him straight. Or…not so straight…He never does well with complete answers. _"Ah…not quite. I was wondering if I could have just a _little_ more help from you."

Gumshoe frowned and his eyelids half curtained his rankled orbs. Phoenix wanted to cringe. He knew that he had been asking the older man a lot as of lately, and that most of his wants fell into the line of costing the good man his job. _But if it had been __**Edgeworth,**__ he would've been at his beck and call. Where's the justice?_

"What…_pal?_" The last word was said through gritted teeth. _I'm surprised he's caught on to detect when a bad thing is coming his way. I need to give him more credit._

"Ah…nothing _too_ serious this time. I just…need to see…the criminal records at _least _to five years back. Ya know…" he shrugged his shoulders again, as though to show that the request was trivial, "…to find the name of this guy that I found."

He watched as Gumshoe's shoulders arched back, and he craned his neck more sharply to stare Phoenix squarely in the eyes. When he got this way, the lawyer knew all too well that it was time to make up more excuses. He forced a grin and waved the article that he had printed off the computer last night in the detective's face.

"What? Don't look at me like that! I have proof!" He pointed a finger at the inkblot on the page. "See? This guy, right here—the one with all the tattoos down his neck."

"I see what that is, pal." _Either Gumshoe is getting wiser, or he __**really**__ knows when he's become someone's desk jockey._ "But let me ask you something…" Setting the phone aside, the detective leaned forward across his desk so that he was only several inches away from Phoenix's face, though still not quite eye level with him. "Do you _realize_ that anything that comes out of there is considered irrelevant, pal? I mean…going through the records in the first place without a real cause is—"

"Detective Gumshoe," Phoenix's tone was just as steady as the older man's, his eyes exhibiting no signs of deception. He was as serious as Edgeworth had once been. _And __**that's**__ a feat!_ "Did I _once_ ask you to search for this man for me?" Gumshoe was silent at first, and the lawyer could tell that the clockwork in his brain had begun to cycle…very _carefully,_ he would say. While his mind was at work, his mouth was gaping, struggling to find something—_anything_—to say. "All I have asked for are some documents and fingerprints. Nothing _too_ exhausting, I hope. I don't _really_ want to get the authorities involved with this guy; I just want to talk to him." His voice dropped to a whisper, "Okay?"

Frowning, Gumshoe finally stopped thinking altogether, his attention focused solely on Phoenix, his eyes beady and thin. The creases under them showed strain as they scrunched up together to meet his lower lid. Even the corner of his mouth had begun to twitch, and there was so much tension in his hands, veins were surfacing and showing much more color.

"You have…a way with words. Guess that that's why _you're_ the lawyer, pal." He stepped back, taking the phone in his hand, and erected himself completely upright. His attention turned momentarily to the person he was speaking to, "Hey, I'll be right back. Just gotta get him some records is all." A few more words were exchanged before he gave a single nod, set the phone back onto his desk, and walked into the back.

_That wasn't…as hard as I expected…sort of._ Giving a low whistle, Phoenix's eyes vacillated between the phone on the desk and the door leading into the backroom. _Phone on desk…Backroom…Phone on desk…_ His attention was drawn to the lone phone a moment longer. _Just __**who**__ is he talking to? I mean, I don't mean to be __**nosy**__ or anything, but his voice got really low—and quick, too—when I came in._

His eyebrow cocked, skirting his hairline as he realized something else. _And he mentioned me. If it was someone of little importance, he wouldn't have used my name. "A friend is here," would have been more appropriate. That's…very odd. And he remembered my name…that's even more peculiar. I thought he'd never get it._

Phoenix's curiosity was driving at him more and more as his eyes burned into the silhouette of that phone. He didn't know _why,_ exactly. _It has to be because I'm so paranoid about this guy. And maybe it's not so odd that he used my name in the first place. After all, I __**am**__ somewhat of a popular defense attorney…maybe…Something like that. But that's not the point. The point is, he could be talking to __**anyone**__ on that phone. Like…Gant. _Immediately afterwards, Phoenix frowned. _Now why the heck was __**he**__ first to mind?_

"Ya better be glad I didn't put this away yet!" came the deep voice of an irate detective. "I was still using this to wrap up the old case!"

"That sure didn't take long," Phoenix remarked as Gumshoe came back to the desk.

"Like I already said, pal, this was lying out in the open, _and_ I'm on the phone—long distance, if you recall—and I can't afford to keep them waiting." The detective handed him the thick, worn down book, "Here ya go."

"Thanks," the attorney replied, grunting slightly as the weight of the book put strain on his hand. He had to grab the edge of the book with his other.

"Now, make sure no one sees you with that. Oh, and make your research snappy. No telling _when_ I'll need that back."

"You got it, Chief," Phoenix replied, less than enthusiastic about being rushed. He ignored Gumshoe when he remarked something about 'not being the _Chief'_ and to 'get your ears cleaned.' …Something along the lines to that effect.

On the next vacant desk nearby, Phoenix sprawled the book open, his eyes welcomed to sights of unhappy criminals, holding black plates coated with white numbers. Underneath were their names and charges. _I really don't have any clues to go by, here…_ He looked to the picture he had in his hand. _Well…except for this. Not like it's helpful, though. I could be skimming through this book for hours._

To make matters worse, it was a criminal record book dated some years back and to regions that spread at _least_ twenty miles from the city, and probably more. Phoenix was uncertain that this was even worth it.

_No, no! Think positive! Have to! If I don't, then what hope do I have of stopping these letters?_

Flicking his wrist in a repeated motion, he threw the pages across the binding, looking at every set of photos lined on the pages. None matched on the first ten pages, or the next fifteen after that. Gritting his teeth, Phoenix continued to search. Every so often, when his mind wasn't spacing out, he would catch lowly muttered words uttered by Detective Gumshoe, who _still_ was using his hand to cup his mouth and the receiver of the phone.

_Paranoid official. Have to call them as I see them._ He gave a small chuckle at the thought. Still, nevertheless, he wanted to know what could be _so_ important, that it could not be heard by anyone. He caught a few words and phrases, some that seemed safer to be said aloud in public.

"You're in town? Are you coming by? I'll set up a lunch date so that we can talk…" were often the "innocent" sentences that were allowed to slip by during the conversation, and it seemed to pique Phoenix's interest even more. _No, stay focused on the book! He's…probably talking to his dear old granny, anyway._

He forced his hand to flip through several more pages until he realized that he was no longer paying attention to the matter at hand. _Gah! Wright! Keep your eyes on the __**book,**__ you spying dog! …Page thirty-eight? That may be too far into it._ He used one hand to keep his current place, while using the other to flip backwards, eyes vacillating back and forth across the pages. After a minute or two, he found himself staring at his watch.

Phoenix was unsuccessful in finding anything helpful, so he turned back to page thirty-eight, a slight wave of irritation running over him. He could still hear Gumshoe mumbling and, though he wasn't _trying_ to eavesdrop, he picked up some other smaller words—ones that, this time, the attorney could not place into context.

"Awhile…Forgotten…A shock…"

_Turn to the next page. Turn to the next page…_ He forced himself to stare at the article in his hand, the image of a murderous looking man staring back at him. Phoenix clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, absorbing every line and detail in the photo. _This man…is he __**really**__ the guy that's been sending me those terrible letters? If it is, what am I going to say when I see him? Asking him to just simply "stop" is out of the question it seems._

Looking at the top corner of the next two pages, Phoenix realized that he had moved from the city to ten miles south. His eyes wandered back to the article for a brief second and then back to the book. The same man was staring back at him. _…I-Is it…?_ A sudden string of clicks began to go off in his head, like dominoes, until he was able to convince himself that the photo in the article had _not_ jumped off from the paper…

…but that he _had_ found a match in the criminal records.

The same beady eyes, the same crooked nose, the same tattoos and military haircut…No doubt, this man was the one. Phoenix immediately traced his eyes down to the small scribble located underneath the photo.

_Rippon, James…Arrested for grand theft auto. Released on 5/7/16. …Wait…Rippon? I __**saw**__ that name on the evidence found in Ward's room!_ Gaping, Phoenix jerked his attention back to the distracted Detective Gumshoe. _The same evidence that I just handed back to __**him!**__ …I should've known that it would've been a name. Just like that time on Mia's reports…_

"Detective!" Phoenix called out. "May I borrow a phonebook, by any chance?"

"What, pal? First the criminal records, and now a phonebook? Don't you know how much trouble you're gonna get me—"

"Detective, it's _just_ a_ phonebook._"

Gumshoe looked from Phoenix to the phone in his hand, as though uncertain of himself. When his eyes drifted back to the younger man, he was frowning. "I swear, you're just gonna…" But he had already set the phone down and was scrounging under his desk for a phonebook. He was only gone a second before reemerging with a rather thick and beaten up phonebook. "Here, pal. But I _swear_ that this is _it._ I'm gonna get fired because of you."

"And you'll go down an honorable man," Phoenix forced a grin.

Gumshoe made a face. "Bah," and returned to his phone call.

Phoenix was still smiling in the detective's direction when he set the phonebook beside the criminal records and opened it. Taking a large portion of the pages in one hand, he threw them over the binding, skipping ahead to the R's. _Let's see…Riopel…Riordan…Rios…Ripley…Ripoli…Ripple…Rippon…There we go._ There were three Rippons in the phonebook, and only two with addresses beside them. He Phoenix held his breath, praying that James Rippon was one of the two. _It should be __**easier**__ to find a man than this, but I'm stuck searching through a phonebook. How unlucky._

He traced one finger down to see the first Rippon D and F, 464 Stin Lane. _That's out of the city. Besides, I don't think that that's him._ The next one was Rippon H, but no address was given. _…I'll hope that that __**isn't**__ him. Last chance, Wright._ Taking in a deep breath, he brought his finger down to see the last one: Rippon, 214 Gourd Lake.

Phoenix didn't _quite_ know what to say. _It's either him or it isn't. I doubt the other two are._ He stayed that way for quite some time, unmoving. There were no initials, though he half-wished that there was. Not to mention, the address _Gourd Lake_ had caught him off guard as well. He blinked several times, staring at the phonebook. _I have a choice to make now. I could either take the chance that it's him, or close up the book right now and forget I ever came down here._ The decision wasn't that hard. The heavy letters in his pocket were enough to make up his mind.

_Good thing I have a pen in my jacket. I'm not sure __**how**__ Gumshoe would react if I asked him for __**that.**_ He leaned over the phonebook, shadowing the page, and carefully wrote the address down in blue ink across the flat of his right hand. _Paper, unfortunately, is one thing I __**don't**__ have. Ah, but I'll take the chances of ink poisoning…if it means finding out this guy's intentions, that is…_

Closing up the phonebook, he turned to Detective Gumshoe's desk, holding out the book. "Thanks, Detective, I have all the information I need."

For some reason, Gumshoe didn't bother to shield the receiver this time. "Hey! That's my line!"

When the detective didn't take it fast enough, Phoenix took to setting it on the wooden desk. "I found an address, too, so you won't have to worry about me asking for anything more from you."

"That's…nice…" Gumshoe watched Phoenix's hurried motions in giving back the book, recapping his pen and shoving it into his pocket, and then spinning around on his back foot, prepared to leave. "Say…"

"Thanks for all your help, Detective," Phoenix said, back turned. "I'll be off to find him now. If something happens, I just want you to know that none of this is your fault."

"Huh? Wait a minute, what do you _mean_ 'if something happens,' pal?"

"But Maya is in town, Detective. If she doesn't hear from me and calls you, will you take care of the office in my place?" Phoenix was anything but apprehensive, as though he _believed_ that nothing was going to go wrong or, perhaps, he did not want to worry anyone else. Deep down, even _he_ wasn't sure which it was.

"Sure…wait…Wait a minute!"

But Phoenix was already moving towards the door. Before he left, however, he could've sworn that he heard someone from far off ask, _"Now, what was that about?"_

--

It was almost two forty-five by the time Phoenix was able to successfully leave the precincts, catch a taxi, and ride through the horrendous traffic up to Gourd Lake. He shivered from the wind and hugged himself for a moment before proceeding through the brick wall of the Nature Park. The leaves on all of the tall, serpentine-like trees had changed from their natural rich green to various colors of brown, yellow, and orange. Most had fallen from the tiny limbs above, leaving the trees naked with their spreading branches, almost like twiggy arms from a small person. The leaves had created rather large piles, littering the concrete path through the park, and they crunched under Phoenix's feet as he moved across them.

Even the bushes that lined the trees had already gone into hibernation, leaving everything but a single green thistle, which were scattered about the baseline of the plants. The wind had blown some into the path, where they intertwined with the dancing leaves in the sky. Further down the walkway, underneath a dull colored street lamp, a trashcan had been tipped over (Phoenix figured that it was probably the wind's doing), and was rolling about. Luckily, before it had fallen, all of the trash inside had already been taken away. He could hear birds singing in the treetops, some smaller ones flying overhead.

His eyes wandered to the sky, where several rows of thick, somber colored clouds had rolled in. _No wonder it's so cold._ He was hugging his body again when he arrived at the Gourd Lake Public Beach, immediately regretting not having brought his coat. His fingers had drained to white, with tiny red spots on the palm of his hands. Bringing them to cup his mouth, he blew into the hole of his fists in a futile attempt to warm them. Realizing his failing, he tried to distract himself with the environment. He turned towards the abandoned hotdog stand where Larry had once worked. The sign that used to read "Samurai Dogs" was now gone, and nothing had been left in its place.

The lineup of blue, plastic benches were cracking under the cruelty of the weather and wind. At first, Phoenix thought about sitting down for a moment to warm himself, but inwardly scolded himself at the discrepancy of the matter, knowing that he would become even colder if he stopped for a break. He growled, forcing himself to look at something other than the inviting benches. He caught sight of the signpost, instead. _Left…Boat Docks. Right…Exit. Somehow, I already knew that. Must've been with the case involving Edgewo--_

He stopped himself in mid-thought, becoming aware that he was growing even more depressed. Phoenix sighed, turned his head away, and saw another trashcan underneath a bare tree. This time, however, the can had been turned upside down where brown, yellow, and orange leaves gathered around it. He quirked an eyebrow, confused to see such an awkward scene. _Well…whatever. I don't have time to be sightseeing anyway._

Phoenix turned right, still hugging himself, and marched through the woods. The wind was still upbeat, sending in sequences of waves from out on the lake, crashing against the shoreline more violently every time. He had to retreat backwards along higher ground the further he continued around the lake because there were no guardrails. His irritation grew when his feet reached wet sand and he felt himself sinking further and further into the earth, making it almost impossible to walk. It took some time and his shoes were full of dirt, but he was able to pull himself out of the mess and fall back to more solid footing. Then, he tripped over a series of rocks, nearly causing him to fall.

After some time, he was able to stand upright and walk like a man instead of a limping animal. Taking a deep breath to relax, he was surprised to catch a variety of scents, some from the trees and other plants around him, others were chimney smoke from houses around the area, and he could also catch the scent of the water, plants, algae, and fish all combined.

Phoenix swam through tall, dry blades of grass, and stopped twice to pull off his shoes and dig out the sand from within them. Leaning against a tree, his eyes traced the silhouettes of several bare trees, twisted awry and looking much more foreboding without the leaves to attenuate how malicious they looked in the nude. He pushed himself away quickly and began again, lifting his legs high across the flatlands around the lake. Once, he had to divert from the lake because the plants and trees had been huddled together too closely for him to continue past them and hug the lake's shore. Phoenix miserably turned again, walking an unbroken road.

His breathing grew heavy, and his huffs were followed by physical strain from aching legs and a sore back. Even his cheeks had grown flustered, and he wasn't sure if it had been caused by the cold air clashing with the warmth from his body, or if it was from the nervousness he felt every time he took a step closer to Rippon's house. Either way, it had triggered his face to brutally itch and he found himself scratching for several minutes on end. After a while, his legs became numb, tingling with the same sensation from his reddened cheeks. _It's the cold,_ he assured himself. _It's __**got**__ to be the cold. _Inattentively, he had started to rub his hands together until they got too hot and he stuffed them into his pockets. _I suppose it's a combination of the water and the enclosing trees. It's keeping the cold air in. Not to mention, the wind doesn't help the situation._

Before long, Phoenix realized that he was lost in the woods, the lake far from his sight. He halted in his steps, anger rising slightly, and he stared at his right palm, as though the blue directions written there would tell him where to go next. _Fat chance!_

"This sucks. How can this guy live all the way out here, anyway?" Shifting one side of his lip upwards into a crooked smirk, he shook his head and sighed, "I don't believe this."

He noticed that the chirping of the birds had grown far and few in between. It worried him slightly and he wondered if it wouldn't be best to just go back. _And allow this nutcase to continue to send threatening letters? Get real, Wright!_

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of crunching leaves and breaking twigs behind him, and Phoenix spun on his back foot to stare at the approaching figure behind him, the sight of rustling bushes and snapping limbs coming into his eyesight. The lawyer held his breath as the shadow began to shift into a various blend of colors, and the whimsical height appearing on the face of the trees began to shrink until a tiny boy came trudging up to him, holding the straps of his backpack with both hands.

Phoenix smiled as he realized that he recognized a familiar face, although it was the _last_ person he expected to see.

"Cody Hackins, how _happy_ I am to see you."

The young boy took a small hand and used it as a visor above the lining of his eyebrows. Puckering his lips, Cody leaned forward to see who was speaking to him. "Who's that? You a stalker or something?"

"No," Phoenix replied as Cody moved closer, removing his hand from his head. "It's me, Phoenix. You know…Phoenix Wright? From the…uh…incident…with the Steel Samurai."

"Huh? Pops?" When Cody stopped, the attorney could tell that he was taking a moment to catch up on his words. With a quick nod, the boy said, "Ohhhhhhh yeeeaaaahhh, I remember you now. You were with that pretty lady." He immediately began to look around, sidestepping, and asked, "Say, Pops, where is she, anyway?"

"Huh?" Suddenly, it hit him. "Oh, right. Mia. She…uh…She's back at the office."

The boy seemed crestfallen. His eyes drooped and his head lowered to meet the base of his neck as he sniffled. "Oh."

"Well…" _Gotta cheer him up, I guess…_ "She says 'hi,' though."

He waited for a moment, waiting to catch any reaction from the young boy, and was almost disappointed when he saw nothing. After a while, though his head was still lowered in despair, Cody said, "Yeah, tell her I said 'hi,' too."

Phoenix couldn't understand his melancholy disposition, but, nevertheless, shrugged it off. "Say, Cody, what are you doing so far out here? It's a long way from Global Studios, isn't it?"

As resilient as the lawyer expected him to be, Cody looked at him, back straight, and placed his tiny balled fists on his hips. "Who? Me? I have a friend out here that trades cards with me. I was just leaving his place when I ran into you."

"Oh?" All of a sudden, an idea hit Phoenix. "Hey, do you think you know this place well enough to give directions?" He stooped down onto one knee, becoming eyelevel with the little boy. "I'm trying to find this place." He held his palm out for Cody to see, who leaned forward to read the chicken scratches on Phoenix's hand.

He mumbled something for a minute, as though trying to remember it if he spoke it aloud to himself, and then laughed, "Oh yeah, I know where this place is. It's right next to my other friend's house." The attorney frowned. _My, I wasn't aware that so many people lived out near Gourd Lake._ Cody looked back up at him, a spiteful look upon his tiny face, scrunching his little features. "The guy's a real jerk. Yells at us every time he sees us."

"Him?" _This just might be the guy…_ "Cody, where does he live?"

Cody blinked, his face becoming a blank slate, and Phoenix wondered if he had just asked a stupid question.

Indeed, he had.

"_Duh,_ Pops! What kind of society do you think we _live_ in!? I give you something, you give me something. That's how it works."

…_I was afraid of this…_ "You're saying…trade?"

"Of course!"

Phoenix sighed, repressing an additional scowl as he reached into his pocket for his black, leather wallet. _Guess it's a good thing that Maya got me hooked on this. If she hadn't, I wouldn't be able to negotiate with little punks like Cody._ He withdrew the small stack of about thirty cards and fanned them out the best he could for the younger boy to see. Cody protested.

"Ch. Come on, Pops, you're behind the times! These are Steel Samurai cards; the stores have Pink Princess now."

Phoenix frowned. "What? You're telling me that just because they're last season, you won't trade with me? I remember a time when the Steel Samurai was your biggest hero."

Rubbing the bottom of his nose, Cody snickered, "He still is. All right, Pops, show me what you've got." _Finally, some cooperation!_

Cody delicately took the cards into his tiny hands, skimming through them. Phoenix was about to ask if he could _really_ see them with so much flippant attention towards them, but he was cut off when the boy abruptly thrust the cards back toward th lawyer's chest.

"Pops, I got _all_ your cards _and_ duplicates and triplicates of some, too."

Feeling himself becoming bested by an eight year old, the attorney shoved the cards back into the boy's direction, his voice dripping with irritation, "Come on, kid, these are _all_ I have!"

Cody took them back without another word, swiftly flipping through them again. His eyes moved up and down from Phoenix to the cards, and the lawyer watched as his little mouth curled into a sadistic grin, sending shivers up the older man's spine.

"All right, Pops, I'll trade with you anyway. I see you have a holographic promo in here."

"Really?" Phoenix beamed, exuberant that he was finally getting somewhere. "That must be worth something then, right?"

"I have four of them already."

Another wave of silence passed between them and Phoenix was losing his patience. Cody still held the cards in his hands, nonchalant to the lawyer's wicked stare. _I know from experience how hard it is to intimidate this kid. I'm wasting my time._ Cody returned his gaze to the stack, ruffling through them for a third time.

"Okay, tell you what. I'll trade you your holographic promo for my information. You're getting cheated, but if you don't want to trade for cards anyway, then it might be the only deal you're getting."

"That's fine," Phoenix agreed. "So go ahead and take that."

As fast as the words had left the attorney's mouth, the boy had snatched the card from the deck, held it up to his face, twirled it about with a smile, and shoved it into his pocket. Phoenix's mouth hung open, eyes wide when he saw which card it had been that the boy took. There was a glowing picture of an epic duel between the Steel Samurai and the Evil Magistrate—a card that the usually uninterested lawyer had favored most dearly. _I __**liked**__ that card! Why did it have to be __**that**__ card!?_

The boy must've seen the disapproving stare from Phoenix because he asked, "What, Pops? There a problem?"

Hastily, the older man pointed a finger to the boy's pocket, "T-That one?"

"Yeah, of _course_ that one. That's the holographic card."

Phoenix took the cards back from the boy and stuffed them into his pocket, disappointed, but decided not to argue any longer. "Okay, fine. Now it's your turn." Once he had put the wallet back into his pocket, he held out his hand again, "Where does this guy live?"

Cody looked at the address for a second time, folding his arms over his chest. "From here you're going to take that small path over there…" he uncrossed his arms for a moment to point a tiny finger to a well hidden path to Phoenix's left. "Continue up along the path until you see the lake again. Once you do, make an immediate left around the corner and head straight back. His stupid, little house is pushed further behind the trees."

Phoenix couldn't believe that he was only talking to an eight year old boy. _He really __**does**__ have some brains for being such a young brat. I don't know whether to spank or applaud him._ "Really? That's all?"

"Yup," Cody nodded several times. "That's all. Think you can remember that, Pops, or should I repeat it?"

…_Spank him. It's for the best._ The attorney replied, "No, I think I can remember that just fine."

"Okay." Cody straightened himself, ready to leave. "Nice doing business with you, Pops," he said and he walked around Phoenix, past the path that he was told to take.

"Yeah…sure…" He watched as the boy walked away, disappearing behind a heavy thicket of bushes and trees, the rustling echoing behind him steadily dissipating. "…No problem."

There was a pregnant pause for quite some time after that, leaving the spiky haired man to do nothing more but stare at the path he was to walk. After several minutes, he found himself edging closer and closer towards the path, his feet moving in slow shuffles at first. _What am I afraid of? I got directions to this guy's place; I should be happy that I can finally see if this is the man who has been sending me these letters or not._

With that thought in mind, his pace quickened, slightly more relieved that he was finally on a treaded path rather than an uncharted one. He didn't have to walk far until he saw the corner of the steaming lake, rippled faintly by the slowing wind. He bit down on his tongue, looking to the right where he saw sparsely grown trees leaving gaping holes in between, exposing blurry bushes and forestry beyond that. Taking a deep breath, he sluggishly made his way towards it, almost slouched over. _I guess…it's beyond that. For some reason, I don't feel as enthusiastic about this anymore._

His apprehension exacerbated when even thicker clouds from above rolled in, hiding the sun, and covering the sky with a dark, solemn overcast. Phoenix's eyes shifted back and forth, nervously, as the trees that towered over him seemed to close in around him. The birds had altogether disappeared and a single chirp was far from his ears. _I wonder if it's going to rain._

Suddenly, his ears perked up at the sound of a distant voice, talking in undulating volumes that were carried off by the wind. Feeling more confident, he walked further into the woods, creeping behind thicker trees that he found, until he saw a small plume of smoke rising into the sky. When he scrutinized further, he realized that the smoke was coming from a dulled colored chimney, most of its bricks either gone or crumbling with time. His eyes trailed down to a tin roof, dented and covered with leaves and twigs. Attached to the cheap looking roof was an old, wooden house, strangled by tall weeds and littered with useless garbage, such as tire rims, broken chairs, and rusted metal crates.

The porch was falling apart and some boards had to be propped up with cans or tied together by thinning rope. The paint on the door had almost all chipped away and the window to its nearest left had been busted out. A piece of plastic had been taped around it to keep the wind from coming in. One step leading up to the porch had collapsed, and the owner hadn't seemed to care about replacing it. _Or getting rid of the broken step for that matter._

Phoenix's attention was brought back to the voice coming from the direction of the house. It had grown louder by the time he arrived and he watched as a large silhouette of a man paced back and forth, holding something to his ear. It took a moment to realize that it was a phone, but the attorney was more concentrated on the physique of the man, along with his near bald head and strange array of tattoos. His mind wheeled in reverse back to the picture and his hand slowly crept to his pocket to dig it out.

He was extremely disappointed when he found nothing inside. _Huh? Shoot! I think I left it back in the criminal records book. Ah man…Oh well. My memory serves as good enough evidence that gives me reason to believe that this guy may be the man I saw in that photo._ Holding a hand above his brows, Phoenix silently nodded to himself. _Wow…it really __**is**__ him! What luck! …Well…I don't know if that's a good or bad thing…_ Phoenix was hurled back into reality when he saw the man walk back inside of his house, the steel screen door slamming shut behind him.

He waited a moment, jaw slightly agape, and watched the motionless door. _Where did he go? I don't even see him in there._ He jolted back when he saw the door open again and the man step outside, pulling his arm through a red, hooded jacket. Jumping down the steps, he began on a walk towards Phoenix, who was sweating bullets at the time, but his eyes seemed to be focused elsewhere.

Horrified, the attorney skirted behind the tree, clawing at it for support as the man passed. He dared to peek over the side of it for just a moment before realizing for sure that the one walking towards the shore of the lake was _indeed_ James Rippon. Rippon, swinging his arms as he plodded up the tiny hill and past the pitiful sight of small trees, began to whistle to a tune that Phoenix recognized as "The House of the Rising Sun." _That's a…foreboding song…_

Shivering, the attorney made the split second decision to follow the suspicious looking man, creeping behind and feeling instantly foolish as though he were poorly imitating a _Mission Impossible_ movie. He nearly hopped from tree to tree, keeping a close eye on the man as he maneuvered back around the lake, whistling. _He must not suspect that he's being followed. I wonder what he's up to anyway._

Tiptoeing across an ample pile of leaves, Phoenix scrambled up one side of a hill, watching as Rippon continued along the path, carelessly stepping on broken twigs and kicking up dirt as he walked. The lawyer dared to hold his breath, waiting for the man to increase the distance between them before making a mad dash from one tree to the next, nearly sliding past it and into a bush.

Rippon didn't notice as he quickened his pace, arriving outside of the Gourd Lake Woods and began his trip towards the public beach. Phoenix, still staggering behind, was so intent on following the man as quietly and carefully as he could, he did not keep an eye on his surroundings, resulting in often tripping over rocks or sticking his legs into mud. By the time he had successfully caught up to the man on the path towards the entrance, he was amazed that his clothes were still in one piece. _Or, more realistically, that this guy hasn't noticed I've been following him._

Stooping over to wipe the mud from off of his pants, Phoenix looked up to see an awaiting black Sedan on the front curb along a red line where it clearly stated "No Parking." Rippon climbed in on the passenger's side, pulled the door shut, and the car was off.

_Oh cra—_ "Hey!" Phoenix accelerated his sluggish walk, darting out into the street and waving at the cars, hoping to spot a taxi. _I can't let him get away!_ "Taxi! _Taxi—!_" A string of honks erupted into Phoenix's ears before he quickly hopped back onto the curb and out of the reach of other cars. "…Probably a bad move…"

Another honk caused him to turn and a yellow cab rolled up to the curb and the bay window rolled down. An ugly looking man with a large mole on the right side of his cheek and a cigar hanging out of his mouth stared at Phoenix. "What? You nuts? There are better ways of calling a taxi than that, bub."

"S-Sorry," Phoenix apologized, bowing his head. "Please, can you help me? I want you to follow that black Sedan." He was already forcing the door open and had seated himself in the passenger's seat by the time he got around to pointing down the street where the black vehicle had disappeared.

The cab driver pulled the car out of park. "Guess I don't have a choice. Okay, I'll follow it." As the car pushed itself back onto the road, he asked, "What? Your girlfriend in it?" With a snicker, he added, "You two have a fight?"

At first, Phoenix was about to object, but thought that an excuse like that would prove to get him better service than if he said he was stalking someone. Clearing his throat and using a dirty hand to brush the loose strands of hair from his eyes, he responded, "Uh-huh. Funny how you'd know that."

"Ha!" The cab driver swerved into the next lane, clicking over his blinker, "I know _everything,_ bub. People always spilling their life stories to us and all…You'd feel sorry for us."

Phoenix had only caught part of what the man said, his attention focused more on the man in the black Sedan and he silently prayed that they would successfully catch up to him. Inattentively, he had begun to drum his fingers on the armrest of the cab and lowly hum to a nonsensical tune. He didn't even notice when the cab driver turned to give him an awkward stare; his eyes were glued solely onto the automobile, his forehead sweating.

"What? You afraid that your girl is gonna run off? With another man, maybe?"

"Yeah, yeah," the lawyer absentmindedly agreed, his eyes never once leaving the little dot on the horizon. "J-Just…make sure you stay on that vehicle. But not too close, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," the driver said, changing lanes again and turning at the intersection before the light changed to red. "Geez…lovebirds…Involve us cabdrivers like we don't have anything better to do with our time…"

_Hey, you're the one sitting there __**listening**__ to them. Don't pretend that you're not interested. _Five minutes down the road, Phoenix could feel his stomach churn. The traffic was building up and the congestion had caused the car to move from a slow crawl to a complete stop. Up ahead, he could see the entrance way into the docks—a popular tourist attraction that featured boat rides and luxurious cruises.

The black sedan had cornered off, rolling up over a curb at the end of a street and creeping onto the next. Squinting his eyes, he could see James Rippon jump out of the car, slam the door shut behind him, and begin walking down the busy street.

"Excuse me," Phoenix fished out his wallet, retrieved a ten, and tossed it into the driver's lap. "This is my stop."

"What? Hey, what's the hurry?"

The lawyer had already pried the door open, stepped out into the middle of the lane, and jogged around the back of the cab. Several speeding cars honked at him from the other lane as he attempted to cross, resulting in a hop back to the safety of his own lane. He frowned, watching as Rippon continued down the street unsuspectingly, and his lips curled into a sneer. _There's no __**way**__ I'm letting him out of my sight._

Chancing it, he tore across the street when the traffic cleared and jumped onto the sidewalk, knocking down an old woman carrying a large grocery bag.

"Hey!"

"Sorry!" Phoenix called back as he darted down the street, feeling guilty that he had plowed the woman down, her groceries scattered all over the sidewalk, but he could not stop. He looked back once to see her in a crumpled heap on the ground with several pedestrians stooped low, helping her up, and it made him feel slightly better.

"Excuse me, pardon me," he muttered as he pushed himself past other people who were traveling at a slower pace than he. Some he had to push clear out of the way, though he felt apologetic in doing so, but, having saved more time, he could see Rippon across the second street, talking in a telephone booth.

When he reached the crosswalk, Phoenix did not stop; instead, he hurled himself out into oncoming traffic. He was rewarded for his brashness with several honks from angry drivers who had successfully managed to swerve in time to miss him. He shyly waved at them, forcing a grin, and attempted to ignore all of the people who were staring at him as he ran by. _Sorry, sorry, sorry! I don't mean to cause such a hassle, but he's __**right**__ there!_

His brows knitted together as he saw the other man twirl the cord in between his fingers, talking quickly into the phone. Rippon's eyes kept darting around, as though paranoid that someone could see him. Phoenix had begun to slow as he neared the booth, watching James Rippon with such intensity. _He was talking to someone back at the house. Who could he be talking to now?_

Now moving leisurely down the sidewalk, face flustered from having run so fast, Phoenix took to sitting on a bench for a moment or two, waiting for the other man to leave the booth and find out what he was up to. Given the time to breath, the attorney was also granted the opportunity to reflect on the mess that he had just caused seconds ago. Another wave of shame washed over him and it caused him to look down towards the ground.

It wasn't much longer after that until he could hear the scraping of heavy doors and he looked up, watching as Rippon stepped outside the booth and started on a quick walk down towards the docks. Trepidation grabbed Phoenix from behind, but, nevertheless, he pushed himself forward.

It was easy, so to speak, for the next ten minutes, until his legs began to grow sore from all the walking. He glanced once at his watch to see the time. _Four o' clock. It's getting late. Have I really been watching for this guy for that long?_ A sudden impulse made him glance up. They had well come into the docks, though the sky was still dismal and the wind was still heavy.

From some distance away, Phoenix could see a set of bleachers with a man garbed in a long, black trench coat sitting at the far left, on the very top. Rippon was climbing the benches. The lawyer watched as he sat down beside the man, mumbling something low and inaudible. Phoenix sighed and sat down on a lone stool overlooking the bay. He stared at Rippon for quite some time, chewing on his bottom lip. _Who is that man? I wonder what they're talking about…_

Fifteen minutes passed. Then twenty. Phoenix grew bored of giving surveillance to the men and had turned his attention temporarily to the skate park far behind the bleachers. There were several teenagers hanging there, the sounds of rushing wheels resounding in the bowl shaped dome as they performed tricks and miraculous stunts. The lawyer smirked, his mind drifting away from his troubles for the moment.

It had been a while since he had gone to the docks. He realized he hadn't had much time since the Apartment Complex Case began. It made him shudder at the thought. Then his mind reeled back to Rippon. He was depressed again. _Until I resolve this issue, I'll have nothing to be happy about. My life is on the line, though I'm not quite sure what the best way to go about this is._

Then there was a shuffle. Phoenix's eyes jolted back to Rippon, who was leaving the bleachers and walking back towards the road. The lawyer jumped to his feet and waited for the other man to gain some length between them before pursuing him again. _Here we go…_ he thought as he started after Rippon, nervously following him along the other side of the docks.

Once, he had gone inside of a bank to withdraw money from the machine located on the far corner of the building. Phoenix waited outside near the door, glancing inside every so often to see where exactly Rippon was. The lawyer could see him stash a large stack of money into his pocket. _It's probably stolen…or dirty money. Something like that._

After that, he went to use another phone booth, in which Phoenix hid around the corner, peeking around to see the man through the glass. Rippon was waving his arms around and appeared to be shouting. Evidently, something was getting ready to go down. A minute or two later, he slammed the phone onto the receiver and stepped outside the booth, walking down the road again. Phoenix followed.

They were back on the side of the dock near the large body of water. Rippon crossed over to a burger joint, which was across a vacant street that was meant only for pedestrians. Phoenix was left next to the railing that oversaw the large lake from below. His eyes turned to the burger place and he assumed that the man had stopped in there to eat and _not_ for some illegal purpose…like robbing the place. _Guess I have no choice but to wait._

His eyes wandered back to the form of Rippon, who was leaning against the counter where the smaller commodities were. He, too, was staring out at the nearly deserted dock, save the same skate park from earlier further up that had a gang of teenagers there. Suddenly, his gaze fell upon Phoenix, and the lawyer could feel a million knives stab him at once. _He's looking! He's __**looking!**__ What am I going to do? What? What!? …I know…I'll wave…_He did just that. Forcing a smile and a meek wave towards the other man across the street, he hoped that the tension would alleviate itself. It didn't. _He's not waving back. Actually…he's giving me a very…nasty glare. Shoot! Turn around, Wright! __**Turn around!**_

Jolting around and placing both hands on the wooden rail, Phoenix's teeth were chattering and it wasn't from the breeze coming off from the waters. _Force yourself to look at something else, Wright. He probably just thinks you're a pedestrian. It's okay…really it is…Oh, look! Birds! They're circling the water above the rocks looking for fish to eat. No…no…not working. Uh…Oh! The kid at the skate park! He took a nasty fall there, didn't he? Um…Well…there's not much else to see out on this end except water…_

Phoenix turned back around. Rippon was gone.

"That's…not good." His eyes wandered around the vicinity, aimlessly. "Maybe he went to use the bathrooms." _Yeah, right._ He still couldn't find Rippon. His heartbeat was becoming more irregular. A cold chill fed its way up his spine. Five minutes went by and still no Rippon. _I didn't lose him, did I? Did he just wander off?_

Maybe then that would be a good thing. At least…there would be no suspicion.

_I'll look again in a moment…just to be safe._ Phoenix turned back around to stare at the calm waters. _That was a close one, Wright. I thought for sure he knew you were following him. So, to keep safe for now, just keep staring at nothing. It really doesn't matter what…_

"Just so long as he doesn't see me…" he mumbled.

"Too late."

The attorney froze. The second voice was not his own, nor was it one that he recognized. It was a deep, hoarse voice that belonged to, Phoenix surmised, a man of great stature and build.

The lawyer turned to look.

He was right.

"You've been following me all day, haven't you?" Phoenix had to crane his neck sharply upwards to stare at James Rippon. His first impulse was not a rational one, staggering backwards until his back abruptly met the wooden rail of the dock. The man seemed even more dangerous in person, his thick eyebrows narrowing so far, they seemed to curtain his steel colored eyes. His crooked nose twitched while his large nostrils flared. The tattoos on his face and neck extended all the way down his chest, broad shoulders, and thick arms.

Phoenix giggled like a schoolgirl, then immediately cursed himself for it. _A…giggle? What the!?_

"I…uh…What do you mean that I've been following you?"

"Don't play stupid with me, Porcupine." Rippon turned and forcefully spat onto the ground. His bloodshot eyes looked back at Phoenix. "I've watched you since we left Gourd Lake."

The attorney winced. _Was I…not that careful?_

"I know who you are," Rippon claimed. "You're the defense attorney who put my best friend and his cousin behind the slammer. For you to cross paths with me, I know it ain't no coincidence." His form seemed to loom even more over Phoenix, "Isn't that right, Porcupine?"

Trembling all over, the smaller man looked about himself, watching as his own shadow melded into the larger man's. "I…I uh…"

"So, what are ya doing here? You trying to pull the same gig on me now?"

"Gig? I…I don't know what you mean."

"What? You speak a different language?" Rippon cleared his throat. "Fine, I see we're gonna have problems. I don't like liars, Porcupine. I don't like 'em at all."

"Liars?" Phoenix nervously chuckled. "Who's lying?"

"You're stupid for coming after me." At the sound of a cocking pistol, Phoenix's eyes immediately turned downwards to see a large, black revolver in Rippon's hand. He twirled it effortlessly around his index finger, stepped back, and aimed it at the attorney's head. "However, with you out of the way, things will go much smoother for me."

"J-James Rippon…!" Phoenix started, his mouth running dry.

Rippon merely smiled. "I knew you knew who I was. Take care…Mr. Wright."

The shot followed instantly afterwards, exploding against Phoenix's ears like a volcano. He thought he screamed, but he was too busy pulling his head to his chest with his arms, protecting it as best he could. _No…No…! I was…so close…_ Knees wobbling, he collapsed to the ground, a sudden dizziness overwhelming him.

Then it happened.

"Hey! You! I heard everything! We're taking you down to the precincts, _now!_"

There was a sudden shuffle, a loud clank, and various screaming. It took Phoenix a moment to realize that he had _not_ been hit and that there were other people around him. Opening one eye and then the other, his head slowly removed itself from its protective place on his chest, looked down, and saw Rippon's gun lying by him. Jolting his gaze upwards, he watched as James Rippon was now being forced into custody by at least ten officers. Blinking, he forced himself to pull all of his swirling thoughts together.

Detective Gumshoe was right behind them, shouting orders. Phoenix watched him, flailing his arms and running around them. When the detective saw the younger man on the ground, arms up around his ears, he knelt down and placed a hand on the attorney's shoulder. Slowly, but surely, Phoenix gained enough confidence to release his grip. The tension began to fade in his arms as he lowered them to his side.

"Detective…Gumshoe?" he whispered. "What…What are you doing here?"

"You okay, pal? You would've been a goner had my man not shot the gun out of that guy's hand. What are you doing out in a place like this, anyway?"

"I…" Phoenix placed a hand over his chest, feeling his racing heart. Sweat was pouring down the side of his face. "I don't mean to look a gift horse in the mouth, Detective, but…wasn't it _you_ who said that you weren't going to help me anymore?"

Gumshoe stiffened, his eyes darting back and forth. "I…I did say that…"

"But…?"

"But…someone asked me to help you. Told me not to let you out of my sight."

Phoenix's eyes widened. "Who? Maya?"

"No. Just…someone who knows you."

_Knows me? What?_ "Detective…" His voice was stern, "Who _was_ it?"

Gumshoe patted Phoenix's shoulder once. "You need to be more careful."

--

So, did I do better? No? Please review (without the flames).

(Gumshoe-sama sits back in his large, red, velvety chair, tapping a finger against his chin)

"I look dreadfully silly in that scene talking to (blank) on the phone, narrator. Most certainly not how I am in _real_ life."

My apologies, Gumshoe-Sama.

"I will be expecting improvements."

(He snaps his fingers to prove a point. Behind him, a knight in shining armor rides by on a bright horse. Gumshoe-sama turns in his direction and makes a comment.)

"Oh, knight Butz is here. I wonder if he's here to kiss my ring."

(Indeed, knight Butz drops himself from off his horse and quickly walks up to Gumshoe-sama, clad in armor. He draws a sword.)

"I'm looking for Nick, good sir. Do you know where I might find him?"

(Gumshoe-sama leans back and holds out the hand in which he makes everyone kiss the ring.)

"Why, I know _all,_ my child. But first, you must kiss the ring."

(Knight Butz lowers himself to one knee.)

"Of course, Gumshoe-sama."

…Amazing, isn't it?

ML


	4. Summons To Gourd Lake

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Phoenix Wright and all of that other good stuff.

**A/N:** All right. It looks like it's high time I addressed some issues going on here.

First off, though I appreciate the support, I _really_ would rather _not_ see my review page turned into a battlefield between readers. So long as it's not a blatant flame, everyone's entitled to how they feel about the story.

Secondly, I understand that some readers are having an issue about Phoenix having a brother. I _did_ state at the beginning of this that it _is_ an alternate reality and does _not_ follow the Justice for All timeline. I'm very much aware that Phoenix is an only child and says so himself. I can recite when, where, what case, and what prompted him to say it. Believe me, I know. But this is a fanfic. If it's really that big of a deal that Phoenix has a brother, then I say to stop reading now, because Cameron eventually plays a _huge_ role in this.

Next, there seems to be a problem with my characterizations. In my defense, may I remind some that this _is_ my first Phoenix Wright fanfic. I'm trying to write about something that hasn't exactly been written about before and I really _have_ taken everyone's opinions into account. I've even rewritten several scenes to help with the problem. I'm not trying to make everybody out of character, especially Phoenix, but I've put him in an unfamiliar situation where he's receiving threats. Really, how would he feel? How would _anybody_ feel in that position? That's the question I'm trying to keep in mind as I write him. I'm not trying to make him come off as a complete and total jerk, but more anxious and under pressure than anything. I apologize if I've failed at accomplishing this.

As for Larry and Gumshoe, I know they're not idiots, but the game doesn't exactly make them the brightest crayons in the box, either. Larry, most of the time, is in his own little world. He _does_ come through for his friends, though his reaction time may be a little off. Same with Gumshoe. They're both great friends, but not exactly up to speed with everyone else.

I'm not trying to personally attack anyone; it's just that these are reoccurring issues being brought to my attention. It could also mean that I'm not doing my part as an author, though I hope that that's not entirely the case. I want everyone to know that I _do_ take everything told to me into account, but to understand my side as well. I hope this clears up the issues.

So, to the people who this notice affects, I hope you'll continue to read my story. If not, I understand. As for the rest of you, thank you for all of the reviews and support!

**From now on,** I'll be writing my stories in **order of importance.** If you want to see more of **this story,** please review and tell me so, or vote in the poll on my author's page. Thanks much!

Meanwhile…

(Gumshoe-sama is still sitting in his velvety, red chair, anticipating the next chapter.)

"I see that I am in the first paragraph, Narrator. I expect you to have done better in regards to my character."

Yes, Gumshoe-sama. Where is Knight Butz?

"Ah," he rotates his wrist in complete circles. "He is searching for Damsel Phoenix. Never you mind that, Narrator. Onwards, to the story!"

Yes, Gumshoe-sama.

**--**

**You, Me, And The War Between Us**

**--**

**Chapter Four—Summons To Gourd Lake**

**--**

"Detective…" His voice was stern, "Who _was_ it?"

Gumshoe patted Phoenix's shoulder once. "You need to be more careful."

Phoenix frowned, unsatisfied with his answer. _I was __**just**__ almost killed by that psychopath of a man and he decides he's going to __**leave **__me with answers?_ "Detective," the lawyer tried a different approach, "_how_ did you find me?"

For a brief second, Phoenix could've sworn he had seen a flash of relief cross the older man's face, as though eager to get off the first question.

Gumshoe answered, "Oh that? Well, I'll tell you one thing, pal, it wasn't easy. I mean, well, it was easy to find out where you were _going_ because you left the criminal records out on the desk with that article you brought inserted in between the pages. After putting two and two together, I realized why you needed the phonebook, found the nearest address, and followed you out to Gourd Lake—"

"Wait, wait a second," Phoenix waved his hand in front of the detective's face, his eyes closed to think for a moment. "You say _Gourd Lake?_ There were three addresses in that phonebook. How did you know which one it was?"

Gumshoe turned his head away. "Geez, for a guy who narrowly escaped death, you aren't very grateful." His eyes coming back to Phoenix, "All right Mr. Unappreciative Lawyer, let's say I made an educated guess. What do you say to that?"

The younger man paused. _Well, I must say…I'm impressed. _Detective Gumshoe didn't seem to notice the disbelief in the attorney's eyes and continued, his thumbs twiddling.

"Anyway, I left about a half hour after you did and ended up at Gourd Lake. I got lost for a while and I wound up having to trade some cards with this kid to get any information."

Phoenix's ears perked up. "What? Trade? What do you mean by that?"

The older man's eyes began to sparkle as he explained himself, "Oh, Steel Samurai, Pink Princess, ya know? That top knotted girl you used to hang out with forced me to watch the show with her one day and, well, I thought it wasn't so bad and—"

"You bought trading cards?"

"—my room is covered with wall scrolls and posters, but that's not all. I mean, there are action figures, too…"

_Poster? …Oh yeah, that reminds me of the time when Maya and I got into that big fight about whether or not to take down Mia's old movie poster and put up one of the Steel Samurai…I'll bet she put it back up while I was gone, too. __**That**__ must be the revenge she was talking about. I should've known…_

"…anyway, back to the story, pal. He told me he saw you follow some guy out and you took a taxi after him. When I asked him which direction it was in, he replied that it was near the docks."

Phoenix was beyond embarrassment at this point. The fact that he had acted so carelessly, and let everyone see how _evident_ it was that he was following James Rippon, made him want to curl up into a ball and never break out again. _Cody saw me following him? I suppose it's not a surprise that Rippon, too, would see it the same way._

"Well, we headed down along there and began to stop and ask some people if they had seen you go this way. One angry elderly lady said you mowed her down while trying to run after someone…" Phoenix grimaced upon this, "…and others agreed with her testimony. It was just a few minutes ago that we heard you had walked in this general direction and, lo and behold, you're here with a destiny that says your brains are about to be splattered on the ground."

"…Gee, when you put it that way…"

Gumshoe straightened his back, holding out a hand, "Can you stand up now?"

Phoenix gazed at him and then his hand, chewing on his bottom lip. The fear had passed by this time, and his unstable breathing was now even and soft. He took the detective's hand, and the older stood up, pulling the lawyer to his feet.

"You seem better, pal," Detective Gumshoe said with a bit of observation. "Do you _feel_ better?"

"About that? Yeah. But, one thing still bothers me." Eyebrows knitted together, Phoenix staggered backwards until he met the protective stance of the railing, and looked more attentively at the other man. "Who _was_ it that told you to come out here? Maya? Cameron?"

"Huh? Cameron?"

_That's right. Cameron and he don't know each other. Guess that rules that option out…_ "Never mind," he waved the thought away. "Forget I said that."

It was the detective's turn to look puzzled. Lifting a brow, he blinked several times, apparently unsure of whether or not to respond to Phoenix's statement. He must have decided against it because he, instead, turned around and began to shout orders to his men, who were throwing Rippon into the back of a police car and were waiting to drive him to the precincts. _He's not getting off __**that**__ easily…_

"Detective…!" Phoenix was about to grab his shoulder when Gumshoe turned around, his face somber and emotionless.

"Would you like a ride back to your place? I'd be happy to give you one."

The lawyer frowned. _He's avoiding my question._ "Sure…Why not?" He hesitantly allowed the conversation to drop, hugging his body, and turned to look out towards the calm waters. "By the way…thanks, Detective. I really owe you one."

Gumshoe smiled. "Glad you weren't hurt, pal."

--

Instead of having the good man drive him all the way back to his apartment, Phoenix asked to be dropped off at Wright and Co. Offices for some last minute studying. Gumshoe told the lawyer that a testimony had to be given and Phoenix agreed to have it written up for the next day and that he would drop it by the precincts after work. Satisfied with that, the young attorney stepped out of the car and walked into the offices.

No one was in the unlocked room when he entered and he figured that Maya had gone home. He was bummed that she had not locked up the office on her way out. _With the way things are going with me right now, it's not a surprise if someone decides to break in and steal, say, my radio._ He carelessly tossed his jacket over Maya's desk and walked into his room, the light still on.

Everything was quiet, save the ticking of the clock in the corner of his room. With the interminable silence, it gave Phoenix time to think and he realized that he did _not_ want to go home to face Cameron just yet, though it seemed selfish of him in the first place, and decided to write up his testimony before closing up the office. He grabbed a sheet of paper that he often used in writing formal documents and letters and found an envelope in the second drawer of his desk.

Sitting down in his leather recliner, he clicked his favorite pen, leaned forward, and began to write out his testimony, giving every explanation he could to show that he had had a _reason _for following the man. He started from the beginning, noting Gumshoe as the head detective on the apartment complex case, and pointed out the connection between Maxwell Ward and James Rippon. Gradually, he moved into how he had found out about James Rippon (save a few details that he _knew_ would get Gumshoe into trouble), and began to explain the travel to Gourd Lake, Rippon's house, and Phoenix's own first impression.

The testimony itself only took forty-five minutes to complete before it was sealed and marked with Phoenix's black signature. He tossed the envelope into his second drawer so he would remember it for later and drop it by the precincts. Glancing at the small clock on the wall, he realized that it was almost seven. _Cameron's going to wonder where I am if I don't get home soon._

Rising from his chair, a sudden movement caught the attorney's eyes and he looked towards his open door. A flustered Maya Fey stumbled into his office, doubled over, but still managed to glare fiercely at him.

"And just _where_ have _you_ been!?"

Surprised by her abrupt outburst, he replied, "I was just about to ask _you_ the same thing."

She thrust a shaky finger into his direction, dark circles appearing under her eyes and her voice became hoarse and raspy, "_Don't_ pull that with _me,_ Phoenix Wright! I just ran all the _way_ from the precincts because I got a call from Detective Gumshoe saying that your life may be in danger! By the time I got there, he had already dispatched his men and they were all looking for you! He comes back an hour later saying that you're just fine and dandy back at the office. So I ran all the _way_ back here!"

"He called you? Why?"

"He wanted to know if you had been acting strangely lately. When I told him that you had been, he asked if I knew anything about a 'James Rippon.' I denied it and _that's_ when he began to tell me that you may be in danger. Now, _Nick,_ may I ask _you_ something?" He did not respond. It was not because he didn't care what she had to say, but because her words, in general, had left him speechless. He had _not _wanted her to find out about the danger _or_ James Rippon. She continued a moment later, despite the fact that he hadn't answered her question, "I thought you and I were _partners,_ Nick! When I came back in just now, I saw _these_ scattered across my desk!" She instantly whipped out three white envelopes.

Phoenix recognized them as the unusual letters he had been receiving as of late.

"If you and I _are_ partners, then _why_ didn't you tell me about _these?_"

He was silent for a while longer, his eyes unable to face hers and his head lowered to gaze upon the surface of his white desk. He focused his attention on the sound of the ticking clock as he seated himself back at his desk. A quick question appeared in his mind and before he knew what he was doing, he blurted, "So when did you have time to sneak in and read them?"

Her face pulled apart from the anger, becoming slightly taken aback, and then changed again to annoyance. She waved the letters at him, eyes bright with fire, "Nick! I ran here as fast as I could! The front _door_ is still open because I didn't have time to close it! When I came in, the first thing I saw was your jacket sprawled across my desk and _these_ scattered on top of it. I was curious, thinking that they were blackmail or something, so I grabbed one and looked at it. When I saw what it had read, I looked at the others. Nick, for the _final_ time, what _are_ these?"

She was still shouting, though her voice undulated in tone. Phoenix looked from her to the letters, remembering the sinister value of them. "So you've been standing there for quite some time without me knowing. Funny that you'd take to the letters first, especially if you were concerned for my wellbeing."

"All right!" Maya threw the letters up and he watched as they fell in all directions across the floor. "Detective Gumshoe _told_ me why you've been going to the precincts so much. He made me promise not to tell you, but since you're being such a jerk, I am!"

"Wait? He _told_ you? How much did he—"

She cut him off. "I rushed in and saw the letters sticking out of your coat pocket on my desk. I didn't read them, but I grabbed them since I figured that those letters would be the _only_ letters you'd carry around with you right now." She paused, as though realizing that she wasn't making any sense. "…And even if they _weren't_ the letters, I still _know_ about them."

"Maya," Phoenix began, strapping on the most rock hard look he could muster, "I didn't want you involved. I went after James Rippon because he was indirectly a part of the case that I just solved. I have a reasonable argument that supports the idea that he _might_ be the one sending me these letters. He was Maxwell Ward's friend and accomplice in all of their wrongdoings from five years ago. Now that Ward is in custody, he'd want revenge on his friend's behalf. When I met him today, that's _exactly_ what he wanted."

"Yeah," Maya folded her arms across her chest, cheeks puffed. "Detective Gumshoe _told_ me that he had you at gunpoint."

"Those letters," Phoenix continued on without bothering to comment on her last remark, "I am confident enough, will stop after today. Tomorrow I need to drop off my testimony regarding Mr. Rippon and everything will be at a close."

The young acolyte didn't look convinced. Her eyes wandered to the three letters that had fallen about the room. Phoenix watched her, wondering if she was going to start screaming again. He was relieved when he saw her eyes close at last, inhaling deeply.

"And what if you had died today? What if Detective Gumshoe hadn't got there in time? What then?"

There was an awkward pause. _Actually, to be truthfully honest, I hadn't considered the possibility of him actually __**shooting**__ me. Guess that was sheer luck on my part._ Regardless, Phoenix kept his cool, for Maya's sake. "But I'm fine, aren't I? Nothing bad happened. Again, I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Maya, I just didn't want you involved."

"You're starting to sound like Prosecutor Edgeworth," she untangled her arms and balled her fists. "You've _changed,_ Nick, and I don't know if I like it."

He gazed upon her, jaw slightly agape and eyes wide with eyebrows slanted upwards. _That's not the first time she's said that. __**Have**__ I changed? I didn't notice._ "I…" He couldn't look at her any longer. Guilt overwhelming him, Phoenix looked back to his desk, distressed. "I'm sorry, Maya. I just thought…I thought I could handle it myself. You're right; I didn't consider the possibility of him shooting me or me not coming back tonight. I don't know _what_ I was thinking." He slowly sat himself in his chair, slouched over. "Even though I didn't want you hurt, I guess it wouldn't do me any better if I _had_ died. I'm sorry."

There was another pause and Phoenix thought her to still be upset. _She's probably giving me those big, evil eyes and that deep frown of disapproval. Next, I'll get the cold shoulder and the head shake of rejection. I don't blame her. I guess what I did __**was**__ pretty stupid. But…was it __**really**__ something Edgeworth would do? Well…that doesn't matter anymore._

A soft hand fell on top of his. Phoenix jerked back slightly and looked up. Maya was standing over his desk, a smile on her face. _Well, I hadn't expected that._

"Nick," her eyes were glistening, as though she were about to cry, "I'm just happy you're okay. You're a real idiot, you know that?" She brought the back of her hand to her nose and rubbed it gently. "Promise me you won't do something so stupid again."

It seemed as though an anvil had fallen on Phoenix. He felt worse than ever as he watched her try so hard not to cry. _If I refuse, I'm afraid that she __**will**__ break out into tears._

"Yes, I promise," he agreed, nodding his head and taking her small hand in both of his. He continued to look at her even after she had turned away. "I'll tell you next time."

Unable to hold her composure any longer, Maya tore her hand from his, raced around the desk, and threw her arms around his neck as she buried her face into his shirt. "Nick!"

The impact nearly caused the chair in which he sat in to topple over, but he withheld both her and the recliner as he adjusted his weight. She was sobbing, something that he found extremely unusual. _Or it could be the fact that I haven't seen her cry since her sister's death. I guess I didn't imagine she'd take it __**this**__ hard…_

Suddenly, a balled fist whizzed by him, striking him in the face.

"OW! Sonofa—"

"That's so you won't forget your promise!" Maya cried, her face red and eyes swollen with tears. Watching him squirm in pain, clutching his face, Phoenix could hear her chuckle softly.

--

Phoenix agreed to open the office with Maya the next morning. Though he knew that that wasn't the way she wanted to spend her time in town, the lawyer couldn't help it. The last case had given him the money for the bills and groceries, but he could only cover half his rent. Cases prior to this just didn't cut it at all. He felt as though all the effort just cost him more money than what he had actually earned. He needed another client and as soon as possible. _Rent's due on the first of November. It's already the twenty-sixth and I __**still**__ don't have enough to make ends meet._

Dejectedly, he had awoken to the sound of an alarm that resembled quite accurately to that of a fire alarm. Nevertheless, it met its dire end once he had swept his hand across the dresser and knocked it into a wall, the batteries popping out from the bottom. When he found the strength to stagger into the front room, Cameron was already up and watching children's shows on the television. He was laughing hysterically over something stupid, but the one thing Phoenix noticed was how the man was already dressed, as though he had somewhere he intended to go.

Shaking his head, the half-conscious lawyer sluggishly moved to the bathroom on the other side of the room, stifling a yawn. Several minutes passed after the door had closed (as another rerun of the Steel Samurai came on), and running water could be heard, accompanied by clanging shower rings. Cameron, eyes glued on the television, only tapped his fingers against the arm of the couch, humming the Steel Samurai theme song once it cut to a commercial. Within the matter of thirty seconds, a sharp scream echoed from the closed door leading into the bathroom.

"_CAMERON! YOU USED ALL THE HOT WATER!_"

From inside the shower, Phoenix was hugging himself tightly, his teeth chattering, and he retreated to the other side of the tub where the water could only minimally reach. _I'm going to kick him out…First I'm going to kill him, and __**then**__ I'll kick him out…_

Within a matter of five minutes, Phoenix had rushed his shower and managed to jump out before the ice had formed on the ends of his hair. Muttering a string of curses, he quickly dressed and looked to the mirror. His rage only intensified when he tried to shave and realized that all of his razors were dull.

"_Cameron!_"

He yanked the drawer open, retrieved his favorite comb, and looked at the massive globs of black hair caught in the teeth.

"_Cameron! For the love of the Steel Samurai, do you__** have **__to be such a slob!?_"

Several minutes later, he kicked the bathroom door open and stormed outside, a large, gray cloud following obediently afterwards. It was the perfect time and the perfect mood to call up those who needed punishment most…

…so Phoenix called up the post office.

He was only on the phone for fifteen minutes, but his escalating voice carried from his bedroom to the front room and Cameron had to turn up the television several times.

"I don't _**care**_ if he had a family emergency! You don't seem to _**understand**_ that my rent is due next month and I don't have all of my bills to cover—"

The TV was turned up again. Cameron leaned into the sofa, watching intently his favorite show of the hour. Once it cut to a commercial, the next sound was the phone being hurled against the wall, clangs emitting from the small bells within the machine. Phoenix stomped into the hall a moment later, his face redder than Edgeworth's car. The lawyer's stormy eyes met Cameron's, who was holding a package in his hands. When or where he had found the time to get it, Phoenix wasn't sure. Nor did he care.

The lawyer said nothing as the older brother offered it up to him, a small smile tugging at his face.

"What's that?" Phoenix asked, his tone flat.

"It's a Christmas present," Cameron replied. "I'm sorry I'm a little late with it."

Rolling his eyes, the attorney glanced to the calendar on his wall near the kitchen. _Remember, Phoenix, it's __**not**__ his fault…it's __**not**__ his fault…It was the accident fifteen years ago. Don't be so __**hard**__ on him…_

"Cameron," Phoenix said, his voice still monotone, but he took the present anyway. "It's _October._ Christmas isn't here yet."

"…Oh." Raising his eyes back towards his older brother, the younger realized that the other was not _kidding_ about the box being a Christmas present. "Well…I'd like for you to open it anyway. Please?"

Grimacing at what further destruction to his state of mentality could be done, Phoenix reluctantly agreed, "Fine. I'll open it." The attorney seated himself on the sofa next to Cameron, blinking.

The present _did_ have its luster, what with a pretty red bow and wrapping paper that featured little snowmen. However, the _real_ eyesore came from the thick, gray duct tape strung all over the large box. Phoenix tried prying it off with his fingernails, grew irritated with the stickiness that trapped itself underneath them, and pulled his keys from his pants pocket. Attempting to saw off the tape, he was only successful in cutting through the first layer before realizing that there was more underneath.

"Cameron," followed by an exasperated sigh, "_why_ did you do this with the tape? This is ridiculous."

"I just wanted to make sure you got it without anyone else taking it first."

"Well, did anyone try to steal it from you?"

"No."

Phoenix stared at his brother for the moment before returning to his work. It was another ten minutes before he was able to tear the tape away, but tore off the wrapping paper in the process, and became entangled in the pretty bow, making it useless for any further wrappings. Irritated, Phoenix ripped the rest of the paper off, staring at the large produce box used for lemons.

_It __**smells**__ like lemons, too._ Ignoring the terrible odor, he pried the box open and the first thing he could see was a giant, yellow book.

"…Cameron…Is this _my _phonebook?"

"Yeah, well…I thought you needed it."

"…But it was already _mine._ _Why_ would you wrap up what's already mine?" He witnessed a short shrug from his brother and sighed again. "And the lemon box? Where did you get this?"

"Oh," this was followed by a large grin on Cameron's face, "I found that out back in the alley near the dumpsters. I couldn't find a box of my own and that one was a pretty good size."

_…I refuse to comment any further._ Tossing the phonebook aside, Phoenix reached in and pulled out a Ziploc bag with a half eaten piece of bread in it.

"Oh, I got hungry while I was putting things into your present," the elder pointed out. "That originally _was_ yours, but I took a bite and just put it back in the box."

The attorney said nothing as he threw it over his shoulder and reached in again. The things that followed after that were a random assortment of tissues, five year old wafers, damaged pens and pencils, packs of gum without any gum inside, and a broken keychain.

"Merry Christmas, brother," Cameron reached over to pull his brother into a hug.

Phoenix did not share the joyous occasion, his narrow and bleak eyes staring at the pile of junk in the box—most of which he figured were useless scrap items that Cameron had collected from around the apartment.

"…I have to go to work now," Phoenix announced, dropping the box to the floor. He stood up and walked towards the door, not giving his brother _or_ the gift another thought.

"Hey, I thought you had a girlfriend, Phonics."

"It's _Phoenix,_ and…what gave you _that_ idea? Wait…the better question would be: _how_ is this question relevant to the present you just gave me?"

The attorney spun around on one foot, still sore from all of the morning disasters, and stared Cameron down.

"Well," Cameron appeared nonchalant, as though it were the most appropriate question in the world. "Grandma told me you had a girlfriend before. I just thought there'd be someone to keep me company…"

"That sounds suspicious on _more_ than one account, but, no, there _is_ no girlfriend."

"Oh…" The elder gave a shrug.

"Besides, there's always Maya. She called you yesterday, right? Didn't you two hang out for a while?"

"Well, yeah, and we traded a bunch of Steel Samurai cards, but then she got a call from the precinct and I came back here. Say, she said that the detective mentioned your name. What was that about, Nox?"

Phoenix pursed his lips together, sweat beading at the back of his neck. "Uh," he finally broke through, "that's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Oh," Cameron appeared satisfied. "Anyway, Grandma told me about what happened three years ago."

Phoenix wanted to escape the conversation. "If you knew about it already, then why would you ask me about it?"

"You're my brother," Cameron replied, his voice certainly more tolerant than his brother's. "We haven't seen each other in eighteen years, so…I just thought we'd start by going over everything. I mean, I know you almost went to _jail_ for it…"

"That's an understatement. Prison…Death penalty…Those would be more accurate."

"See? We're getting somewhere already! So, my first question: did you do it?"

"Actually, I'd rather not talk about it." Phoenix reached over and grabbed his blue jacket off of the makeshift rack. Slipping his arms into the sleeves, he added, "It was a big mistake and nothing like it will ever happen again."

"Can you be so sure?"

"Yes. Absolutely positive."

"Phonics…" Leaning over the arm of the couch, the lawyer could see his brother's eyes sparkling with malicious intents. "Now you're in denial."

"I am not." Surprisingly to himself, he was playing this childish game of reverse psychology. _I have to get out of this._ "Listen, Cam, I don't know what Grandma told you, but I'd rather just not talk about it. Can't you just respect my feelings and dro—"

"I think it's something you need to get off your chest."

Phoenix's patience was thinning. He didn't want to take it out on his brother, but this was just too much, and the stress load as of late was running him dry. "Cameron. I _don't_ want to talk about it."

"You know, my therapist says that a man in denial will prove to have problems later on in his life. You know, job, finances, sex—Are you sexually frustrated, Pho—"

"_**ENOUGH!**_" Face flustered from the last bit, Phoenix Wright tore his front door open and slammed it shut behind him.

--

"I can't believe you just left him by himself, Nick."

"I already _told_ you," Phoenix was busy drafting a second version of the testimony he was going to give to Gumshoe later on that day. He didn't even bother to look up at Maya, "my rent is due on the first of next month. That gives me exactly _five_ days to get the money."

"Six if you're including the first itself…" the acolyte tapped her index finger against her chin.

"Yeah, what am I going to do, then? Put up a lemonade stand? I'd probably wind up paying the _customers_ to buy." Phoenix shook his head. "He never called, never sent a letter, and never tried to get in touch. What am I supposed to do, drop everything and wait on him? I can't do that, Maya. I barely have enough money to pay the bills."

Maya was standing above his desk and he could see out of the corner of his eye her balled fists upon her tiny hips.

"He's your _brother,_ Nick. In an eighteen year lapse, I would've thought you to spend more quality time with him. All you've been treating him like is a _client._ You know, you're being really selfish, Nick. At least you _have_ a brother." She was insinuating her sister's death. He tensed, feeling the chill emit from her. She was telling him that her sister was dead—murdered—and that there would be no going back for them. At least Cameron was alive and there to form a sibling relationship with. There was a brief pause before she asked, "Did you even _tell_ him what happened yesterday?"

The head of his pencil broke. Grinding his teeth together, Phoenix stared down at the deep, black line drawn out from the word "gun" to the edge of his page and off onto the white desk. "Maya…I _do_ feel bad. It's just…priorities come first."

"That's cold," she told him. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you had some kind of personal grudge against him."

"Him? No." Phoenix was scrounging his desk for an eraser to clean his desk and paper. He pulled open several drawers and searched his pencil cup.

"I thought he was a lot of fun to be with, actually. I didn't realize he knew so much about the Steel Samurai. I hate to admit it, but he's really got me beat. He has _double_ the amount of trading cards I have, and I have over three-hundred, Nick!"

"I didn't realize he was into Steel Samurai this badly."

"And he had all sorts of wonderful things to say about you…" she trailed off and shook her head after a moment. "Nick, you didn't have this much of a grudge against Mr. Edgeworth when _he_ tried to convict all of our clients. And you even _defended_ him!"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"I'm saying…Mr. Edgeworth was, like, one of your best friends, right?" She didn't give him a chance to answer before she continued, "And he said and did a bunch of nasty things to you, right? Remember in my sister's murder trial when White tried to pin the blame on you? Mr. Edgeworth was going to find you guilty! Yet, you _still_ forgave him!"

Phoenix looked up at her, a hint of incredulity in his eyes. "I'm surprised you pieced that together with the relationship between my brother and me. You see, I haven't _seen_ Cameron in quite some time. Everything beyond that…well…it's personal." He went back to looking for an eraser.

"Nick! But…but we share secrets, don't we? What do you _mean_ by—"

"That and I don't remember."

There was another awkward pause and Phoenix, in that moment, found an eraser and began to scrub away at his desk.

"You don't…remember?"

"That's right. It's hard for me to be close to someone I don't remember."

"But…but you hadn't seen Mr. Edgeworth in fifteen years and you _still_ tried to be close to him…"

"Edgeworth's dead now." The words came bluntly and almost at a risen tone. Maya was taken aback—more at Phoenix's indifference rather than the blow itself.

"D-Dead? H-How?"

The attorney looked up, briefly, his eraser in one hand. In that brief moment, a thousand thoughts crossed his mind. He still hadn't recovered from yesterday's fiasco, nor had he come to terms with the letters that had been sent to him. He wasn't used to having to watch his back in case of an attack, and he only hoped that Rippon was the one sending them, because he was now behind bars. Even the subject of Edgeworth was still very touchy. Cameron showing up…It was true that Phoenix had been less than kind to his estranged brother, and he wasn't sure why. There was something there—a feeling.

He couldn't quite get used to it.

_I don't harbor any bad grudges against Cameron. It's just…there's something—something I can't pin down right away. Something that makes me tense and short. I wish I could figure out what it was. Maybe Maya's right after all. Maybe I __**have**__ changed. But when did this change come about? I don't like it either._

"I…don't know," he finally answered. "Detective Gumshoe didn't know either."

Maya's hands fled to her mouth, as though her jaw were going to detach itself from her face. Her eyes began to water and Phoenix shook his head.

"Don't cry, Maya, it won't solve anything. Believe me, I couldn't believe it myself." _Easier said than done, Wright. Try to show some compassion, why don't you? Your morning didn't get wrecked __**that**__ badly, and it wasn't like __**you**__ didn't want to cry either._ "I mean…when I found out, I began to yell and get angry. In the end, there was nothing I could do. He was dead, nonetheless."

"Was it suicide?" Maya asked, her voice cracking. "Or murder? Nick…"

"I don't know," he repeated. "I just don't."

With a sharp intake of breath, Maya turned and fled the room, slamming the door behind her. Phoenix sighed, dropping the eraser from his hand.

_Smooth, Wright, __**real**__ smooth. I'm sure that that was __**not**__ the way she wanted to find out. Then again, how could it have been any easier than the way __**I**__ found out? He was closer to me than he was Maya—one of my __**best**__ friends, actually—and I let him down. How can I ever forgive myself for __**that?**_

Slowly picking up the eraser, he began to scrub the rest of the markings off of his paper and desk. Shortly after that, he spent the next twenty minutes revising. He remarked the letter with his black signature, and looked for a new envelope while he discarded the previous one from the night before. _I misspelled my name at the bottom. __**How**__ could I misspell __**my**__ name!? That's almost as bad as Cameron calling me "Phonics." Because of that and the fact that it was in pen, I had to redo the whole testimony. Perfection at its finest, eh, Gumshoe? I should've just used white-out._

He found another envelope stashed at the bottom, an inch thick of dust coating the surface, and pulled it out. Wiping it clean, he stuffed the newly written testimony inside, licked it from corner to corner, and sealed it shut.

"There, now this time there _shouldn't_ be any problems." He glanced up at the ticking clock on his wall. "Twelve thirty-three. Man, the day's flying." _And all for what?_ "It's too slow today…" He leaned back in his recliner, arms crossed behind his head. _I feel bad…Looking back on it now, I __**have**__ been a real jerk these past few days. I should apologize to Maya. After all, she __**did**__ come out here to see me…_

Sitting up, Phoenix disengaged himself from his chair, maneuvered around his desk, and walked to the door.

"Hey, Maya," he called out.

When he pulled the door back, he was surprised to see that she was not at her desk—or in the room at all, for that matter. His eyes darted back and forth, curious as to where she had gone, until he saw a small, scrawled note with familiar chicken scratch markings that he could recognize as Maya's. He towered over the note, placing his hands on both sides of the desk.

_Desk cleaner. We need desk cleaner. Be back later._

"…Oh." Phoenix used one arm to scratch the back of his head. "Oh yeah, I forgot to pick that up on my way into work." He turned his head to the large pile of mail sitting on the corner of her desk. _And apparently…I forgot to bring the mail in, too. That's right, I'll check to see if I got anymore of those crazy letters._

He picked up the bundle, noting the weightiness of it, and carried them to his office. _These must be all of them. I suppose the post office brought them over as soon as I got off the phone with them this morning. _Spreading the letters out upon his desk, he sorted through them, pulling the bills apart from the actual mail. _Bills…bills…magazines…coupon books…_ His eyes wandered to the several white letters with stickers on them. _…Those are the ones. Looks like Rippon sent me one for each day. If that's the case and my mail has been behind for about a week, there should be seven in this pile._ His fingers moved the letters aside as he counted silently to himself. _…four…five…six…seven…eight…eight?_

Phoenix blinked, his eyebrows rising, and he recounted several times. _Did I get my math wrong? Or…is it possible that Rippon is __**still**__ sending them to me?_ He examined the date when the stamp was marked. _It was marked yesterday…It's the most recent so…_

His hand trembled as he picked up the letter on the top of the stack. He slowly tore the top of it off and pulled out the letter from within. Unfolding the letter, his eyes searched his mind for comprehension of the letter. _It is…It's the same…_

**DoN't IgNoRe Me**

"Why—!" Phoenix hurled the letter away from him. "James Rippon, if you think that this is some kind of joke…!"

"Knock, knock."

Immediately embarrassed by his spontaneous outburst, Phoenix whirled around on his back foot to stare at two figures looming in his doorway. Both were tall, about as tall as Phoenix, but the tallest was a brunette, a long strand of hair cascading down his right eye while another fell down the side of his face. He was unshaven, but no other facial hair than that. In his left ear was a silver post, one that could be seen clearly when ricocheting off of a beam from the light above. His deep blue eyes twinkled with a sudden movement as he half closed them, and he turned his head to reveal his profile, whispering to the man behind him. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, ending a quarter of the way down his back.

Phoenix squinted, confused, realizing that the other man was almost hidden behind the brunette. He held a much more somber face, yet, looked younger than the taller man. Thin framed glasses clung to his perfectly rounded off nose, and his monotone blue bangs swung from side to side as he shook his head. His hair was thick and ended in small curls around his shoulders. The one thing that caught Phoenix's eye was how much his bright eyes stood out against the red, triangular shaped tattoo on his left cheek, followed by two earrings of the same color curling around the outermost part of his ear.

The brunette wore a forest green turtleneck, a tan vest laid over it, and blue jeans. Casual clothing, Phoenix recognized, nothing special. The other man was clad in a black turtleneck with matching denim pants and polished shoes. Whoever they were, they didn't seem to be anyone of any real authority.

"Uh…hi," Phoenix said with a long drawl. He was still mortified that he had been caught in the act of spouting vicious strings of unmentionables. "Can I…Can I help you?"

"I sure hope so," the brunette replied, giving an obvious forced chuckled. His voice was deep but the lawyer could catch the mild twang in his voice. _Sounds Texan…or maybe a little further east of that._ "Mr. Wright…Stock firm?"

"Huh?" At first, Phoenix didn't catch the question clearly. There was his name and then something about a stock firm. "I beg your pardon?"

"Stock firm," the gentleman repeated. "You _are_ Mr. Wright, yes?"

"Mr. Wright, yes." But then, Phoenix shook his head, "Mr. Wright the _lawyer._"

The man's eyes widened slightly, perhaps realizing that he had made a mistake. Phoenix looked over the shoulder of the tall man to see the other, but he held no valued emotion. The brunette's mouth gaped and it seemed as though he were struggling to speak, but could not find the right words to say. It took a few more moments before he could finally speak.

"O-Oh. I see."

"Is there a problem?"

"Well," the man darted his eyes from Phoenix, to his desk, and then back to the lawyer, "we were trying to find someone—from a stock firm, that is—and we thought that he would've come from here."

"No," the attorney shook his head, "this is Wright and Co. _Law_ Offices. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but there wouldn't be anyone you're looking for here."

"Family members, then?" the man persisted. "How about family members in the stock firm? Cousins? Siblings?"

Phoenix thought about it for a moment. "No…no one, I'm afraid. Except…" He turned his head, bringing a balled fist up to his chin, slowly, as he mused over the thought.

"Yes?"

"My father…" Phoenix began, his words low at first, unsure of what he was saying. "He may have been associated with something like that a long time ago…Or was that banking? Eh, never mind that last part; I can't remember exactly."

"No, wait," the man intervened, sharply leaning forward. His agile movement nearly knocked Phoenix from his feet. "What was that last part?"

The lawyer had to balance himself with one arm propped up on his desk as the man came in closer. His arm grew quickly sore and he sidestepped away from the brunette.

"Nothing. I don't remember."

"Your father, right? Where is he now?"

Phoenix grimaced, his eyebrows knitting together. "I…I don't know. I'm not, nor is anyone else I know, associated with any stock firm companies. Is there anything _else_ that I can do for you?"

"Are you sure?"

The lawyer frowned. _How persistent. I already told him… _"Sir, I'm very busy. If there is nothing else I can do for yo—"

"You're not covering up for anyone, right? I mean, it's not like _that_ person is in trouble or anything."

"Why are you here?" Phoenix asked, cautiously. "Did someone tell you to come here?"

The brunette laughed, his face confident and bright, as though he had found what he was looking for. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wright, to have come here and bothered you. You see, it's just very important that we find this person. They are an employee for a local stock firm and we've been sent here to try and find the whereabouts of that person."

"What for?"

"That information…is classified." He smiled again and held out his hand, "Thank you for your time."

Phoenix hesitantly looked down at the hand before him, a cyclone of thoughts running through his mind. Nevertheless, he took the man's hand and shook it twice before releasing it. The man turned to leave.

"Have a nice day."

--

Maya wasn't back until two forty and the rest of the day was spent in silence between her and Phoenix. He wasn't mad at _her, per se; _but the two men who had visited him hours before had put a severe damper on his already dreary day. _Leave it to someone else to rain on my parade. Or flood it. Whichever sounds nastiest._ After that, he remained at his desk, tapping the end of his pencil against the wood at a slow rhythm, his eyes wandering about the room.

_Stock firm…and my father…It's painful to say, but their arrival did nothing but dig up old thoughts…in which I can't remember. When __**was**__ the last time I thought of my father? …Or my family, for that matter? It's been so long that I can't seem to recall much, but what __**is **__there just flares up pain. I know Grandma was there for most of my life, and Cameron and mom were only there for a short while._ His incessant tapping quickened in pace. _…And dad. I don't remember him at all or what __**happened**__ to him. If he's alive, I don't know about it._

He closed his eyes and exhaled.

_I've been on the edge lately and __**I'm**__ not even sure why. Is it a premonition? I don't really believe in them, but stranger things __**have**__ happened. Maybe I should get my thoughts straight. First there's that psychopath who keeps sending me those weird letters. Is it Rippon? Rippon wasn't very happy that I put Ward and his cousin behind bars, but it seems I'm still getting them even now. It's possible that they'll stop now, though. And Edgeworth…_

Phoenix stopped drumming long enough to form a silent prayer.

_Did he __**really **__commit suicide? And how come __**I've**__ never heard about it? Sure, there's the note with his handwriting, but is it true? And why? Of course things were tough after that trial with Gant, and von Karma didn't make things any easier, but is __**that**__ any reason to take your own life, Edgeworth?_

"It just doesn't make sense," he mumbled.

_And then Cameron just shows up out of the blue. When we were kids, he and I were pretty close. He's only five years older than me, but he really took me under his wing. Then…then dad disappeared and mom and Cameron went somewhere else while I went to live with Grandma. I haven't seen mom since, and she rarely kept in touch. Anytime I'd ask Grandma, she'd change the subject. Then mom moved for good and Grandma moved to the other end of the city two years ago. But…_

"I'm so confused. Why can't I remember what happened to dad? Why is it such a blur to me?" Phoenix hadn't realized that he was still tapping the pen against his desk. "Whatever it is, my feelings just can't let go. There's a reason I feel angry with them, but I can't think of any logical explanation. And those two men have been bugging me, too. All these things are happening at once and I can't explain any of it."

"Hey, Little Drummer Boy!" Maya called out from the other room, startling him. "I've only heard tapping coming from your side of the room! Aren't you getting any work done?"

"Speak for yourself," he retorted. "The only thing I've heard from _you_ is that radio. What are _you_ doing that's constructive?"

She laughed and he could hear the squeak as she got up from her chair. Maya entered his room looking better than when she had left it last. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed slightly from giggling. She approached his desk and sat on the corner of it. "Nick, you've been quiet all afternoon. What's up?"

"Nothing, nothing," he quickly said. "I just had some people come in here a little while ago thinking that I ran a stock firm. I guess their presence just has me a little confused."

Her laughter intensified, "A _stock_ firm? Can't they _read?_"

"That's what I thought, too. The office _clearly_ says, 'Wright and Co. Law Offices."

He, too, couldn't help but break out into a smile, followed by a round of soft chuckles. "Well, it's almost four. I have to drop this by the precincts," he held up his sealed testimony, "and then what do you say we go out to dinner?"

"Oooh!" She clapped her hands together and jumped off of his desk, bouncing up and down like a small child. "Yes! Yes!"

"All right then," he stood up, taking the testimony with him. "Let's close up the office and we'll go there together."

"Nick, can we invite your brother?"

He turned to look at her, a look of utmost hope in her eyes. "Sure, I think that would be great. I know he'd like it, too."

"Yes!" She began to pump her fists into the air, which prompted greater laughter from him.

--

Maya was skipping into the Criminal Division at a quarter to five. Phoenix was behind her, his hands shoved into his pockets and looking slightly less than happy. He was trying his best to get his mind off of the two men from earlier, their presence sending shivers up his spine. He chewed on the inside of his mouth, eyes wandering about, until a loud "Whooooooooooop!" broke out and Detective Gumshoe immediately materialized into view.

"Pal!" Gumshoe had his arms outstretched, a wide smile on his face as he approached the acolyte, "How ya doing!? I haven't seen you since I don't know when!"

"Detective," Maya mirrored his grin, her arms crossed behind her back, "It's great to see you! I'm still working hard, of course."

"That's good to hear," but he didn't bother to ask her what she was working hard _at._ He looked over her small frame and then stared beyond her shoulder to where a forcefully happy Phoenix Wright stood, a halfhearted smile on his face. "And it's _good_ to see you too, pal."

"It's good to be _alive._" Sidestepping around Maya, he extended his hand, "Thank you for everything you did yesterday, Detective. And, though it may seem awkward to say this, thank you for telling Maya everything too." He turned his eyes to her, "She deserved to know and I was too stupid not to tell her."

"Nick," her smile became pure and true—not as lighthearted and friendly as when they had first come in. It was sincere, and Phoenix knew that his words held dear to her.

"Anyway," he looked back at Gumshoe, withdrawing the sealed testimony from his coat pocket, "here's the testimony."

"What took you so long with it!?" Gumshoe suddenly blew up, taking both Maya and Phoenix aback. Then, just as quickly as it had come, another resilient, wide grin replaced his anger. "Your criminal has been held up all night and won't answer any questions about what happened. We need some documentation to act as proof against him in order to get him to say anything."

"Well," the lawyer gestured to the envelope, "there's your proof. I'm sorry it took so long; I was at the office."

"Ah, it's no problem, pal," Gumshoe tossed the envelope on the desk behind him. Looking at the name plate (and recognizing the area from having been there so many times), Phoenix recognized it as the Detective's own. "I'm just glad to know that you're okay and that the kid is back." He glanced back to Maya, "What would he do without you?"

"I know!" Maya chirped, puffing her chest out like royalty. "Nick wouldn't survive on his own! I think I'll have to sacrifice training in order to watch him like a hawk." Her furtive glimpse in Phoenix's direction was enough to make him gulp.

"Well, I don't think you should skip training," the lawyer replied, offering his opinion. "And if you keep up with that smart aleck attitude, I think we'll just have to settle for something cheap and unsatisfying for tonight."

"Niiiiiiiiiiiiick!" Maya pouted. "You're such a party pooper!"

"See? I can joke around, too."

"Hmm?" The detective quirked an eyebrow, "What's this about 'cheap and unsatisfying,' pal?"

The acolyte sharply whirled back around to Gumshoe, her shoulders hunched and fists balled. "We _were_ going to go out to eat, but Nick is being mean!"

"I'm not being mean," Phoenix denied. "Take a joke, Maya."

"That joke wasn't funny!"

Phoenix's eyes looked back up to the older man, "Detective, we'd invite you, but I know you're still on duty."

Gumshoe rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah. Not to mention, I'm kind of waiting for someone to come by. But maybe next time, okay?"

"Absolutely," the lawyer nodded and then turned his attention back to Maya. "I'll call Cameron first and tell him that we're going out. You can chat with Detective Gumshoe, all right?"

"Sure!" she avidly agreed.

Convincing himself that they would be fine for the moment, Phoenix stepped out of the room, looking to acquire signal on his cell phone. He didn't have to travel far before he found himself down the hall, but he had successfully received a dial tone. Punching in the numbers to his apartment, he held the phone up to his ear, looking at the white wall before him.

It only rang twice before a rusty voice intercepted, _"Hello?"_

"Cameron," Phoenix spoke, trying to think of a perfect way to ask his brother out to dinner. _I doubt he's forgotten that argument from earlier._ "Say, Maya and I were going to go out to eat and I was wondering if you'd like to join us." _Well, maybe being blunt isn't __**so **__bad…_

There was a brief silence on the other end and the lawyer feared that his brother was still angry from that morning. He held his breath, waiting for a reply.

_"Where at?"_

_I didn't expect __**that**__ answer…_ "Uh, we haven't decided yet. Probably a burger joint or something. Is that okay with you?"

There was another round of silence. Phoenix figured that Cameron was contemplating the options. _At least he can't say that I'm too stuck up to hang out with him now._ "Cam?"

_"Sure, sounds good. Except…I don't know this town from my elbow. Think you can come by and pick me up?"_

_Town from his…what?_ "Of course. We'll catch a taxi and be by in a few minutes."

_"All right, I'll be waiting."_

"Okay, bye."

_"Bye."_

After the click, Phoenix turned to walk back where he had left Maya and Detective Gumshoe. He was whistling inattentively when he approached them, and their conversation was halted by his arrival.

"What did he say, Nick?" Maya asked.

"He wants us to come and pick him up."

"Okay," she agreed and looked back to the detective. "Bye, Detective Gumshoe. It was great seeing you again."

"Come by the precincts any time," he chuckled. "Wouldn't want you to be a stranger."

"I'll see you around, then," Phoenix said, pivoting on his back foot to leave. "Let me know how things go with Rippon."

He was taken off guard when the swat of an open palmed hand violently struck against the midsection of his back like the snapping of a rubber band. The attorney cried out and stumbled forward, regaining his balance only by the miracle of his reaction time. Maya gasped and quickly shifted her attention from Phoenix to Gumshoe. Holding himself against a nearby desk, the younger man jolted his head around to gaze upon the older man, his eyes filled with angry storm clouds and his eyebrows arched more sharply than that of a triangle's side. The creases on both sides of his mouth were greatly deepened and twitched on one end.

"What was _that_ for!?" he roared, noting how calm and collective Gumshoe seemed. _Wait…is he…__**laughing!?**_ "What's so funny!?"

"I…uh…I was just giving you a pat on the back for all the good work you've done recently," the detective replied, his eyes shifting back and forth. "Sorry if I hit you too hard, pal."

"You _should_ be!" Phoenix shouted, pulling himself into an upright position. He held a hand against his damaged backside, grunting in pain. "Geez, next time give fair warning, would ya? That was _completely_ uncalled for."

"Sorry," Gumshoe apologized again, though he was still smiling. "I didn't mean it."

"It's all right, detective," Maya said hastily, accepting the admission of guilt on behalf of her injured friend. "He'll be fine when the bruising heals."

"Yeah, right," Phoenix muttered. "Let's go, Maya." And he limped out the door, hunched over like an elderly person.

He watched as the young girl held him around his back with one arm and supported his shoulder with the other. She seemed concerned, but not as concerned as he had hoped when her hand suddenly left his shoulder and tapped down against one of the loose folds on her outfit that was considered a pocket. He heard her intake of breath and she whirled around, her eyes capturing his.

"Nick, I forgot my cell phone back at the office."

He stifled a sigh, forced himself to stand erect without her help, and dug around in his coat pocket in search of the keys. When he had successfully found them, he deposited them into her waiting hand. "I held onto these for you while you were getting your stuff inside the office. I keep forgetting that my pair is with Cameron."

"You need to get them back," she said. "I'll call you from the office and we'll meet up at the usual joint, all right?"

"Sounds good to me. I'll be waiting at the apartment then, okay?"

"That's fine. See you in a while."

--

At five forty-five, Phoenix was unlocking his door to his apartment. He looked inside from out of the crack of the door and saw Cameron on the couch (which seemed to be his favorite place), watching television.

"You ready?" the younger brother asked as he stepped inside, opening the door wide.

"Yup," the older replied, not even taking his eyes away from the television.

_Sounds like a sitcom. Funny thing to see him watching something other than Pink Princess or the Steel Samurai._ "All right. We're just waiting on a call from Maya then. She left her cell phone at the office and she's supposed to call me when she gets it."

"Oh," was all that the elder said.

Phoenix blinked, blowing forced air out through his nose. "Listen, Cam," he reached over and grabbed the remote. Then, without further delay, he turned the television off. He was surprised when Cameron didn't protest. Nevertheless, he had something he wanted to say and he couldn't sweep it under the carpet any longer. "Are you still mad about this morning?"

Cameron shrugged, "Why would I be mad?"

"Because I didn't tell you about my girlfriend."

"Well, don't you think I have a right to know? I _am_ your brother, after all."

Phoenix stood there, watching the other man stare back with the same intensity. "I just don't want to talk about it right now. It was a stupid mistake that would be better left unspoken. I…_will_ tell you…someday."

"Someday…Someday…" Cameron went back to looking at the black-screened TV. "You see, I was just hoping we could get into learning about each other now, Phonics. I mean, I have questions about you; you probably have questions about me. I just wanted to know a little bit about your past."

"Well, why about _that_ in particular?"

"Why? Well…because…"

Phoenix looked away, staring down the hall that led to his bedroom. "It's not important right now."

"Why? Because _I'm_ not important to you right now?"

The words came out so fast, but the acidic tone struck the attorney like a slap to the face. "I…I never said that…"

"You don't have to." Cameron looked once more at him before rising to his feet. "If I asked you another question, would you answer it for me? Or would you keep it a secret, too? Like, why did you become a lawyer?"

"That? Well, it's a long story and—"

"And you won't tell me." Cameron blew the fringe of hair from his face. "I understand, Phonics. I understand _real_ good."

"Cam, _listen_ to me…"

"I know that you're real busy and all…Probably don't have time for a bumpkin like me…Should've seen it coming…"

"Huh?" Phoenix stalled, many thoughts running through his mind. "Seen what coming?"

"We probably shouldn't go out, either…Might cause a ruckus…"

"What? What are you talking about?"

The older brother began to mumble an incoherent string of nonsense and shuffled towards the door. The last comprehensible thing that Phoenix could understand was "should take a walk…"

"Cameron!" Phoenix called after him once his brother was already halfway out the door. "Where are you going!?"

"Out for a walk," the elder replied, his eyes distant and unfocused. "Should probably let things cool off…"

_He's acting weird now._ "Cameron, don't go out there alone. You don't know the city that well to travel in it by yourself."

"…Gotta think things through…"

And the door was shut.

"Cameron!" Phoenix dashed towards the door, reaching out for the knob and twisting it. He grunted when he realized that Cameron had locked it on his way out and fought to open it. It took several unnecessary seconds to do so and by the time that Phoenix had successfully torn the door open, the elevator door was shutting.

He stared, defeated, at the end of the hall at the closed doors. He couldn't help being torn between two feelings. _Part of what he said was true…while the other half…was untrue. I just…I just don't understand. And his reaction…It seemed unnatural. I don't know if it's the side effects of the accident or whatever. But…well…maybe I was just a little __**too**__ hard on him._

"Man…not again. Every time I try to patch things up with everyone…It's been like that for the last few days. When am I gonna get it right?"  
Phoenix slowly closed the door, taking time to imbibe the situation. He shook his head, turning towards the couch where Cameron had occupied just moments before. Sluggishly moving towards it, he heavily fell down on top of it, sighing. His eyes looked to the ceiling, wearily. _I can't believe that happened. _"That didn't go as well as I had hoped."

Gradually, his attention moved to the phone on his wall. "Maya should be calling anytime now. Wonder if she'll still want to go out after I tell her that Cameron won't be coming…" _Until then, I suppose I'll just close my eyes for a while. Thinking about this is just making my brain hurt._

Images of the fight played upon the darkness of his thoughts until they slowly faded into the approaching abyss into the unconscious. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but it must've been all of the pressure building from the last few days. Nevertheless, the guilt did not unburden itself from his chest.

He did not dream, which enabled his body to relax even further. It wasn't until the gradual prickling coming from his left foot startled him awake, and he also became aware of the stiffness in his shoulders from lying in the same position for so long. Phoenix rubbed his eyes, grunting, and sat up on the couch, shaking his numb foot awake.

Reaching up to the baseline of his hair, he silently cursed when he realized that he'd fallen asleep and sprung to his feet, reaching for the phone. _Maya may have tried to call me... How could I not hear it!?_ He stopped short when he saw that there was no message on the machine, nor had there been any sign of anyone calling.

Blinking in great disbelief, he quickly dove into his pants pocket and withdrew his cell phone. He flipped open the lid. There were no missed calls.

"She never called?" He looked at the lower left corner to see the time. Phoenix began to dial her number. "That's strange..." _Six forty-five, you'd__** think**__ she would have called._

The phone rang four times without a single intermittence and he gave an exasperated sigh as he shut the lid. _Where the heck is she...?_

Walking back to the couch, he sat down, noting that the couch was still warm from where he had slept. He was silent in thought, anything plausible in reasoning escaping him. He couldn't understand. He stared at the ceiling, unfocused, for another twenty minutes before pulling out his cell phone again and dialing Maya's number.

Again, there was no answer.

Knitting his brows together, Phoenix dialed the number to his office, anxiety overwhelming him when there was no answer there either.

"Maya," he whispered. _It's not like her not to call me and let me know what's going on. I'm worried. _He stared at his cell phone, his heart a mixture of emotions as he contemplated what to do. _Cameron is still out on the streets,_ he noted when he heard no footsteps or other noises indicating that his brother was home,_ but I have absolutely no idea where Maya is._

His mind battled with himself, unable to make up what it was he really wanted to do. What he looked at his cell phone again, he frowned. Jumping from the couch, he marched toward his coat rack, grabbed his long, dull green trench coat, and quickly left his apartment. Pulling his arms through the sleeves, he rode the elevator down, thinking of the best place to call a taxi.

--

Phoenix arrived at his office at seven fifteen, his heart pounding aggressively with worry. He had tried twice more to call Maya from within the cab, but there was still no answer as he feared.

He climbed the stairs, skipping several at some points when he felt his blood pressure rise. Rounding the corner sharply, he moved past the large plant sitting off, hugging the opposite wall, and stopped in front of his door. He raised his fist, ready to pound on the door to the office when he realized the yellow Post-it note on the front of his door.

He stopped, his anxiety and rampant thoughts coming to an abrupt halt. It took a moment for him to realize the big, capital letters scrawled across the note, and he slowly brought a shaky hand up to it, fingering the corner.

**MEET ME AT GOURD LAKE**

The writing was bold and black. The attitude was more of an order than a request and Phoenix immediately thought of Cameron._ Maya's handwriting is much neater than this, and I've never seen Cam's penmanship before. He also knows where my office is._ Then an idea struck him,_ What if Cam came here and met up with Maya? It's a possibility...That could be why she hasn't been answering her phone…He must've told her about our argument and she's mad at me. Aw man… _But that last thought didn't matter. He felt much better at the thought of them ending up together. _Man...making me worry like this. Wait until I get my hands on them._ Rolling his eyes, he turned to leave, mentally counting the change in his pocket to see if he had enough to make it to Gourd Lake.

--

He spent the entire bus ride convincing himself that it was Cameron he was going to meet. He _had_ to believe that, and eventually, it came naturally to him.

Phoenix arrived at the closed gates of Gourd Lake nearly at eight and began his walk from there. It was a chilly night with hardly any moonlight. Clouds hovered in the sky, rolling alongside the moon for whatever reason. Either way, the attorney cursed his lack of light and common sense in bringing a flashlight. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck rise on end. Just the day before, he had been here, in this same park, trying to track down a man who, at first, had nothing more to do with him than he had the Apartment Complex Case. Now, he was here on a different mission, but Phoenix tried to stay confident that the outcome would be a little more alleviating than the previous day's had been.

He pulled up the collar on his long coat and wandered into the park, avoiding all eye contact with the trees. _I feel like I'm in a cemetery for some reason. Trees like these are often in my vision of a cemetery, anyway. I guess it's because it's so dark and no one's around. _Besides the sound of leaves rolling across the concrete path with the wind's bustle, the young attorney could recognize the sound of his own shoe soles clicking against the pavement. Almost to a rhythm, he realized, and forced himself to chuckle. Phoenix could hardly see what was in front of him and the strain the darkness put on his eyes made his body much more tired.

_I'm not even sure where to meet him. Why didn't he put that on his note? I'm going to be wandering around here for hours._ This prompted a long sigh from the defense attorney, who wondered how it was that he kept ending up in such terrible situations. His eyes wandered across the ground where the shadows of the serpentine trees formed and he shuddered again. Clouds unveiled themselves from the moon for the moment, privileging him with _some_ light. Moving around to avoid a leaf pile, he continued along the long path, but found himself looking back to the brick wall which marked the entrance and his personal sanctuary.

He crashed into a wiry bush and scolded himself for not paying more attention. Using his arms to pry his leg out of the hibernating plant, he continued along his way, careful to avoid the tipped trashcan that had rolled its way down the path. It quickly gave an abrupt turn and collided with the lamppost. A frown formed on Phoenix's face when he realized that the lamppost wasn't turned on, meaning that it was either broken or sporting a bad bulb. In the end, however, it didn't help him. Clouds had covered the moon again. The darkness was still his only companion, like it or not.

It wasn't long before he finally made it into the clearing, several benches materializing in his view with the large shadow of "Samurai Dogs" next to them. Luckily, the clouds in front of the moon disappeared long enough for him to realize that all was calm on the lake, and that no one else save him was in the vicinity.

"Gods…" he moaned, "Where _is_ he? I have good reason to leave him here and go back home." But his head drooped, "…I can't do that to Cameron, even if I wanted to. He's not familiar with this town and I don't want him getting lost." Another sigh escaped his lips and Phoenix turned his attention to the wooden sign in front of him. There was still enough moonlight left for him to check his watch and guess the time.

_Eight fourteen. It's not too terribly late, but it's not early either. I should find Cameron as soon as possible and get the heck out of here._ "But where would he go?" Venturing right would take him straight back to Rippon's house…a place that he'd rather not see again. However, the left would take him to the boat docks. "Yanni Yogi," Phoenix breathed. "Another crazy guy I'd rather not see again. Still…I doubt Cameron would go off into the woods by himself, so, I guess it's to the docks I go."

Trudging past the overturned trashcans, Phoenix hugged his body to keep warm. His luck dimmed when another set of clouds rolled in overhead, taking the moon's attention again. He found himself stumbling through piles of leaves, and tormented himself for not having brought earmuffs to defend himself from the rising wind. His ears were stinging from the cold, but he wasn't sure if they were any better off than his fingers. Even the double layered coat was too little in keeping the defense attorney satisfied. _Cameron…why couldn't you have picked a warmer place to talk?_

The boat docks came upon him much faster and easier than Rippon's house had, and Phoenix could spot the boat house, but there was no light to be seen inside. In fact, the closer he neared it, there seemed to be a large board on the door. _I guess no one's working the boat rentals anymore. What a shame._ His attention was diverted when the sound of someone coughing perked up his ears. Shifting his eyesight left, he made out the form of a dark silhouette, standing patiently on the docks. Phoenix breathed a sigh of relief.

"Cameron!" he called out. Phoenix glanced around. There weren't any signs of Maya. "What in God's name are you doing out here like this!? Why would you want to talk here!?" Shaking his head, the defense attorney approached him. Still, he was pleased to know that his brother was safe.

The figure before him was tall and wore a large hat on his head. Though clad in a thick coat, his structure proved him to be a male, and a very built one at that. _Wow…Cameron's more toned than I remember him being. And I didn't see him take a coat or hat out with him. Maybe he came back while I was sleeping to get them? Nevertheless… _"Cameron," Phoenix began, "what do you want to talk about?"

Although his face could not be seen, Phoenix was _positive_ that it was his brother before him. After all, who else would want to meet with him at this hour? Cameron turned without saying a word, and stepped forward, pointing at a waiting boat. The attorney glanced between him and the boat. Then, he looked back to Cameron.

"Are you serious? You want me to _get_ into the _boat?_ Cameron, not only is this illegal, it's just plain dangerous! Do you even know if that boat is safe?"

Again, Cameron said nothing, but stepped into the boat. Once he was securely in, he turned to look at Phoenix, crossing his arms over his chest. The younger brother rolled his eyes. "Enough games, Cameron. I'm not getting into that boat."

Cameron stomped his foot, causing a disturbance in the water. Ruffles in the water could be heard as they collided against the dock posts and Phoenix stared at him, feeling the chills run up his body. _He must still be really peeved at me. I want to talk to him…but…_

"Fine. Fine." Throwing up his arms, Phoenix surrendered and followed Cameron into the boat. "But not for long, Cameron. We can do your sightseeing tomorrow. I'm so cold that I think my fingers are going to fall off."

Cameron had already detached the rope from the dock pole and used an ore to push the boat off. Phoenix said nothing as his brother rowed the boat along, and looked up into the sky. The clouds were still hovering over the moon, and he watched as they slowly moved by. He wasn't sure what Cameron was planning, but the boat was aimed for the center of Gourd Lake by the time Phoenix realized it. The fog was even beginning to settle in and the wind had gotten worse.

"Cameron," Phoenix began, softly. "Say something to me. This silence is eating me up." He turned around to stare at the rowing man. "Look, I know what happened back at my apartment tonight was childish and immature. You're right, we _should_ be able to discuss family matters, but, it's…just that I'm not ready yet, all right? I mean, what with mom and dad and grandma…I…Cameron, are you listening to me?"

The boat stopped. The defense attorney looked around and realized that they were smack-dab in the middle of the lake. There would be no way anyone could possibly hear them. However, if something happened, it would be too cold and too far to swim to shore.

"Cameron," he brought his eyes back to his older brother, the worry starting to bother him again. "All right, Cameron, let's talk."

"Cameron?" the man answered. However, this voice was deeper than Phoenix had expected, and sounded nothing at all like his brother's. "What on earth possessed you to think that I was Cameron?"


	5. Rocky Ground

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Phoenix Wright.

**A/N:** Gumshoe-sama is taking an afternoon nap at the moment. Let's not disturb him and move on with the story.

This chapter was originally 30 pages long, so I split it into half. That's why this chapter seems so short. Sorry.

**---**

**You, Me, and The War Between Us**

**---**

**Chapter Five—Rocky Ground**

**---**

Phoenix stood there, unmoving, as he stared at the other man. A sudden horror overwhelmed him, despite his desperate attempts to stay calm. He was out in the middle of Gourd Lake at night with a man he didn't even know. His chest tightened as he watched the man drop the ore into the boat and step closer towards him. Upon impulse, Phoenix shuffled backwards until his leg hit the edge of the boat, rocking it.

"I've been waiting for this day, Mr. Phoenix Wright. The day when you would tell me _exactly_ what I want to know."

"Who are you?" the defense attorney asked, his voice low and surprisingly subtle.

"That is none of your concern," the mysterious man replied.

"Then what do you want?"

"Ah…" Phoenix watched as the other man's head slowly lifted, eyes apparently staring heavenwards, though he couldn't quite see them, and the man looked to the moon. "You were too young to remember it, but a great deal has happened to you in your youth. Not that it's so important now, yet, you are suffering for the mistakes of your family."

Phoenix blinked. "My…family?"

"That's right."

The defense attorney relocated his attention to the calm waters in which he was held hostage in. He was unsure of what was going to happen now, or whether or not he'd be alive after tonight. However, before anything occurred, he wanted to find out the truth.

"You…You're the one who has been sending me those letters, aren't you?"

"Letters?"

"That's right," he nodded. "Letters. Every day for the past week or so I've been receiving letters from a mysterious person. At first, I thought it was associated with the case I just recently closed. However, when seven letters were given to me before I had actually _closed_ the case, I realized that they couldn't be related. They're from you, right?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Phoenix stalled. _W-What? How could he…?_ Suddenly, he flared up. "What do you **mean** you don't know what I'm talking about!? You've been sending me these death threats for the past two weeks!"

"I don't care much for your tone of voice, Mr. Wright. If I were you, I'd put a cork in my mouth, considering the situation that you're in."

Again Phoenix turned to look at his surroundings. After giving a small, half circle, he grunted and gave his attention back to the man. "You really _aren't_ sending me those letters? How am I supposed to believe _that?_"

"It doesn't seem like you have much choice in the matter, really. Now then, I'll be the one asking the questions from now on, if you don't mind."

"Before you do…" Phoenix leaned in closer, "…may I ask how you found me?"

The mysterious man gave a small laugh and adjusted the hat on his head. "It's my job, really. Finding people, that is. I'm very good at what I do."

"So, you left that message for me at my office, right? How did you know I would come?"

"Mr. Wright," the man shrugged. "Did you not hear what I just said? I'm very good at what I do. I anticipate people's choices and motives before they, themselves, know what it is that they want."

"In other words, you were following me."

"Precisely," the man nodded. "Whether it had been your office or the courthouse, you _would've_ gotten that message regardless."

The defense attorney looked away. _That doesn't make sense. In the end, he made it to both places before even __**I**__ had gotten there. Either he really __**is**__ good at what he does, or there's more to the story than what he's telling me._

"Now then, Mr. Wright," Phoenix jerked his gaze back to the other man. "Let's discuss why you're here tonight, shall we? Depending on how you answer my questions, you _may_ be granted an easier outcome."

The attorney took a deep breath. "What is it you want?"

"A man. You know a man and we want him."

"A…man?" Phoenix paused and the wheels in his head began to turn. "What _kind_ of a man?"

"Someone you know quite well, actually. He's a thief and there's something we want back from him."

"What's his name?"

The man chuckled. "That's the catch, Mr. Wright. I'm not allowed to say." Phoenix quirked an eyebrow. "You see, we handle things very confidentially in our department. We're certain he's told you already what it is that he's holding, and all we want from you is a clear confirmation of his location. That's all."

A sudden wind brushed by the two of them. While the other man remained unfazed, Phoenix shuddered with the oncoming cold. He pulled up the collar of his coat again, which had managed to fall somewhat crooked during his walk to the boat docks. There was an uneasy silence to which the attorney wasn't sure how to respond. From the look of things and the hostility of the man's words, he wasn't going to come out of this in one piece.

"A man?" _But who? Edgeworth…isn't an option…Detective Gumshoe? That one is hard for me to believe…_ "I don't know any such man."

"Mr. Wright, don't try my patience. I don't have much left."

The eyes of the attorney became half lidded as his eyebrows lined them in a diagonal manner. "Look, whoever you are, I'm afraid that I can't help you with such little information. No such man exists in my memory, all right?"

"I'm afraid it's not 'all right,' Mr. Wright. Give yourself more credit than what you are. I _do_ believe a person will come to mind."

Phoenix swallowed his anxiety and resumed thinking. _I won't be getting out of here at this rate. Couldn't I…Couldn't I just…_ His gaze wandered to the calm waters. _Just jump. Just jump and swim for shore!_

"I hope you aren't thinking of jumping in to escape me, Mr. Wright." The younger man broke his attention from the water and looked back up. "Why do you think I came out here in the first place? Have you _not_ been listening to anything I've said? I _anticipate_ the thoughts of people before it even happens. If you jumped in that water right now, you'd freeze to death long before you even made it to shore." Following a shrug, the man continued, "Face it, Mr. Wright. You're stuck in this boat whether you like it or not."

Phoenix grunted at his loss, but looked longingly at the waters. _So I'm really stuck?_

"What did you mean when you said that this involved my family?" the attorney asked, eyes still upon the water.

"Exactly what I meant. You are suffering for the mistakes of your family. In turn, that is why you are here tonight. Now then, Mr. Wright, your answer please. The location of this man is…?"

"I don't have any clue as to whom we're discussing here." Phoenix tried to keep his voice low, but his heart was racing from fear. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Edgeworth? Detective Gumshoe? Even Larry Butz!"

"Throwing out names won't help you, my friend. But, for the record, none of them are of any concern to me. Try again." A low whimper emitted from the attorney, whose eyes scouted the dark horizons of where he longed to be. "You're sweating quite freely, Mr. Wright. Are you ill?"

"Let me off this boat," Phoenix ordered. "Let me off and I won't tell anyone about this."

"You coward," the man chuckled. "You'd rather run away than face the truth? I'm sorry, but that's not an option. You don't _really_ expect for me to believe that you have no idea as to whom I'm referring to, right?"

"No! I have _no_ idea! Now, _please!_ _Please_ dock the boat!"

The man crouched down to grab something from behind him. Phoenix couldn't see what it was, but he felt the chill of the night's breeze even harder at that moment. His chest released all of its tension, and his heart stopped as his legs began to knock together. _A gun. It's a gun, I'm sure of it! He's going to shoot me!_

"Last chance, Mr. Wright. Make it a good one. Stolen documentation, your family, and your past. That's your clue."

"I…I…" _My family? Grandma? But, what man would've given me information about stolen documentation? There was no one of the sorts from my past who did that. _He looked back up, "I don't know."

The man shook his head, tsking. "Wrong answer, Mr. Wright. I'm very disappointed with your uncooperativeness. However, it won't be much of a problem. The one we are looking for will come after he finds out that your dead corpse was found washed up on the shores of Gourd Lake. And once he does, we'll be there to take him into custody."

"W-What? W-Wait…!"

The man stood back up, and Phoenix caught the glint from the shallow light of the moon as it reflected upon a metal rod. _A lead pipe…_

"Goodbye, Mr. Wright." Phoenix turned as the man's arm came down, attempting to shield his head with his arms.

The blow came harder than anything that Phoenix had ever felt in his life. It missed his forehead, but connected behind his ear, a stinging sensation that rendered his body numb. He could feel his teeth grinding and see various colors appear before his eyes. Even the ringing in his ears caused by the strike could not be shaken, and grew louder with each passing second. He knew he was falling, but was unsure of in which direction. Then, everything coherent became incoherent with his drooping eyelids, and the man that stood before him was now nothing more than a fuzzy picture, scrawled with inconsistencies and irregularity. His body remained afloat as a support held him from behind. Then, slowly his support began to diminish, and warm air hit his face.

"It truly is a tragedy, Mr. Wright."

Then he was falling backwards, legs no longer touching the ground, and his back collided with something cold. All around him was the sound of shattering glass, but then Phoenix found that he couldn't breathe, either. For that matter, he didn't even have the energy to try. But his body was light, like a feather, and continued to drift away from the voice and the various colors. Even the pain stopped for a moment, but he didn't have the strength to concentrate on that for too long. All he knew was that things were comfortable, and that was all that mattered.

However, a small tugging nagged at him, and he realized his chest was burning. How or why it was, though, he didn't know. Being without mass was enough to send him off into a deeper slumber, and he ignored the fiery feeling in his chest for a moment longer. Though the ringing in his ears continued, a slow pounding had fallen into place beside it, until it became louder and louder. Nevertheless, he paid it no mind, the beckoning of his subconscious thoughts taking over.

Then the burning stopped. His chest was growing colder, though the pounding in his head continued. Everything else around him, for that matter, was growing colder, too. It was easy to fall into such an unconscious state, and his eyes saw nothing more after that. Even after his arm endured a mighty tug and his body became heavy again, it was hard to stay focused, but his body seemed to double in weight, and he was suddenly pushing through an impassable force.

Though his body was tired, the extra weight carried him through, until the surface broke and he could hear shattering glass again. It was then that his chest stopped burning, but he couldn't stop the brutal coughs and sputtering. Of course, the hammer beating against his back wasn't helping. Phoenix doubled over with the force, but was held back by the extra weight. A moment later, his body regained its mass and was hurled upwards until it collided with something hard. He rolled, but did not move voluntarily. Another wave of breaking glass was heard and the extra weight fell in beside him. The ground in which he lay on was rocking, but Phoenix did not stir. He could barely grasp the words of another person above him.

"You've really outdone yourself this time, Wright."

---

He awoke with a terrible headache. He wasn't sure what time it was or where he was at, but he knew that he had a throbbing, unbearable headache. When Phoenix Wright tried to sit up in bed, he came crashing back down and his hands fled to his face. He moaned for a moment in pain.

"Don't try to strain yourself too much, Nick. It'll just make the headache worse."

Phoenix peeked through his fingers to see Maya Fey sitting on the bed near him, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

"M-Maya?" She nodded. "Where am I?"

"Currently? In bed."

It took everything he had not to give her "the look."

"Seriously."

"All right, all right," she said. "You're in my hotel room."

"R-Really?" Phoenix blinked. Since when had she gotten a hotel room?

She looked at him a moment longer, eyes glossy, and, as though she couldn't help herself, threw her arms around his neck, sobbing.

"You…! You…_idiot!_ I thought you were dead! When I saw them bring you back, I thought the worst and…"

"Maya," Phoenix adjusted himself to her weight and looked to the white ceiling. Indeed, he was in a hotel room. "What happened?"

"There's a lot to it, pal. You sure you wanna know?"

Phoenix glanced over Maya to see Detective Gumshoe leaning against the wall. He had an equally somber look on his face.

"Detective?" Phoenix blinked. "What are you doing here?"

"He helped carry you in," Maya replied quietly, pulling back and wiping her eyes. "Nick…there was blood everywhere…"

"Maya…" he looked from the detective to her. "I…" Then he found the strength to frown. "How did you find me? Why didn't you answer your phone when I tried to call? Where's Cameron?"

"Now, hold on, pal. Let's just take this one easy baby step at a time." Gumshoe pushed himself away from the wall and stood at the end of Phoenix's bed. "She's been with me all this time. After you guys left, she went back to the office and encountered a friend there. They both came back to the precincts and we've been tracking you since."

"Tracking me?" Phoenix asked. "How?"

"Remember when he slapped you on the back earlier?" At the attorney's nod, Maya continued, "He was putting a tracking device on your coat. You see, you've been a real problem lately, Nick, and we thought that if we kept an eye on you, it would be much easier to deal with your problems."

"You were…stalking me!?" Phoenix looked desperately to Gumshoe, who only nodded guiltily. "Y-You…!"

"I didn't have a choice, pal," the detective argued in his defense as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I was _asked_ to do it."

"Asked? By whom?"

"By me."

Both Gumshoe and Maya diverted their looks from Phoenix to stare at an oncoming shadow rounding the corner. The light was dim, but the corner lamp made it easier to delineate the man's face as he slowly padded into the room and stood behind Detective Gumshoe, his arms crossed.

There was no mistaking his iron pressed suit and white cravat. Even those eyes that gave many people the right to be intimidated were just as familiar. It was followed by a stony stare and lips that were pressed into a straight line. At the sight of Miles Edgeworth, Phoenix Wright realized that he was having a heart attack.

"_What!?_" It came as a loud shriek and Maya had to restrain Phoenix to the bed as he lunged up, his eyes wide and horrified. "What's going _**on**_ here!?" His breath was short, uneven, and nearly caused him to pass out for a second time.

"Don't act so surprised, Wright. I think you've seen more terrifying things lately than me." Edgeworth looked to Gumshoe, "Isn't that right, Detective Gumshoe?"

"Uh…" Then the detective smiled, "I believe you're right, Mr. Edgeworth."

"What are you doing alive?" Phoenix's eyes vacillated from the oldest man to the female acolyte. "Just _what_ is going _on_ here!?"

"That's a pretty cold 'hello,' Wright." Edgeworth brushed a loose lock of hair from his eyes.

"You're supposed to be **dead!**" the defense attorney spat. Maya did her best to calm him before anything else was said.

The prosecutor cleared his throat. "Yes, well…I believe we're in the middle of a different discussion. Let's finish that one up first, shall we?"

"And you **knew** about this!?" Phoenix glowered at the detective, whose shoulders slumped and he sheepishly turned away.

"Wright," Edgeworth said, sternly, "I said to drop the subject."

"Drop it?" Phoenix blinked, as though he had not heard the other man the first time. "You want me to **drop** it!? If I wasn't injured at this moment, I'd haul my butt out of bed and sock you one, Edgeworth!"

"And I'm sure you would, too. But, Wright, since you _are_ injured, let's save the battery for another time."

It took a moment, but the defense attorney was silenced. Still, his look of anger was unmistaken by the other three.

_All this time I was wrought with grief and despair over his death. I couldn't stop thinking about it. And all this time…all this __**time,**__ I've been lied to…_

Edgeworth took the stand first, as was to be expected of him.

"Now then, I'm sure you have plenty of questions, but they'll have to wait until we get some things cleared up. I know you're wondering how we knew to find you or why we decided to start tracking your movements in the first place."

"And an answer would be _much_ appreciated."

"And one you shall receive," Edgeworth held his hands out, like he often had in court when making a point. "I was on the phone with Detective Gumshoe the day you came looking for a phonebook. After you left, I was the one who instructed him to follow you."

"And a good thing, too," Gumshoe chuckled. "A moment later and we would've had to call the funeral house for _you,_ pal."

Phoenix's grave look did not change. _That's not funny._ The detective was silenced.

"After that, I came back into town. He explained to me that you had just finished a case recently that had some rather undesirable results, such as death notes. Am I right?" At the defense attorney's nod of affirmation, Edgeworth continued, "_I_ was the one who gave him the tracking device and had him place it on you. He was rather adamant when he told me that you have been careless lately and going off on your own in dangerous situations. To prevent you from doing something _stupid,_ I decided to track you."

"And Maya?" Phoenix nudged his head in her direction. "How did she wind up in your care?"

"I was intending to meet you at the office directly, but you were already gone. Luckily enough, Maya was on her way to your office to pick up her phone that she had forgotten, as she told me later on. When she arrived, she bumped into me and I explained the situation to her. We went back to the precincts and began to track your every move. When you went to Gourd Lake, we went too."

"I don't get it," the defense attorney eyed him skeptically. "If you were just going to talk to me directly, why didn't you have her call me?"

Edgeworth looked from him to Maya. "She told me in greater detail what was going on with you. After that, I reconsidered my decision and decided to just follow you instead."

"And why's that?"

"To get some answers, Wright."

Phoenix was silent for a moment before he argued, "I was at home for well over an hour. How did you know that I would leave again? I could've just stayed at home and your plan would've been ruined."

"That's a chance we were willing to take," the other man said. "Maya was very certain that you would go looking for her if she didn't call or come back to see you."

Phoenix felt the urge to glare at her for making him worry. "What made you think I was going to go somewhere important? For all you knew, I could've been going to the grocery store."

"Again, that was a chance we were willing to take."

_That's a lot of chance taking involved, Edgeworth. Somehow, I don't quite believe you. _"And then?" Phoenix pressed. "What then?"

"Simple," Edgeworth shrugged. "I borrowed a boat and followed you to your location out on the lake. Though it was foggy, it didn't take much to realize that you were with another person."

At the mentioning of "another person," Phoenix could feel his skin crawl and his gaze became downcast.

"That man…I don't know who he was or what he wanted with me, but he said it had to do something with my past and my family."

"Really?" the defense attorney gazed back up at the prosecutor, who had arched an eyebrow. "Your family you say? And you didn't know him?"

"No."

"I'd like to inquire as to why you went out there in the first place, then."

Phoenix shook his head, "Tell me your side first and I'll tell you mine."

"Fair enough." Edgeworth looked to Gumshoe, but continued to speak directly to Phoenix, "I saw him hit you over the head with a pipe and he pushed you overboard. After that, he began to row himself towards shore, to which I contacted Gumshoe and asked him to be on standby to apprehend the man." Adjusting the cravat on his neck, he said, "Meanwhile, I jumped overboard to find you floating towards the bottom of the lake."

"So," began Phoenix, who was slowly grasping the situation, piece by piece, "it was _you_ who pulled me back to the surface?"

"You remember that?"

"Bits and pieces," the attorney admitted. "I think I also remember you saying something about how I outdid myself, or whatever."

To this, Edgeworth smiled, though it wasn't quite genuine as Phoenix expected it to be.

"So, how were you able to hide yourself so that the man couldn't see you? Heck, even _I_ couldn't see you out on the boat."

Edgeworth folded his arms. "It _was_ pretty foggy, you know. There _was_ the chance that I could've been seen, just as you said, but I couldn't just let you be out there on the lake by yourself in case something happened, which it _did._"

Phoenix stared at him. _Again, something taken by chance from dear old Edgeworth? I have a hard time believing that he was just hiding in the shadows when there was a chance that we could spot him. But…whatever._

"I see," Phoenix nodded.

"After that, I rowed back to shore with you in the boat. Your head injury wasn't fatal, but it _had_ cost you quite a bit of blood. Gumshoe's unit was already in hot pursuit of the man, but couldn't find him. In that time, Gumshoe and I were tending to your injury, along with a few paramedics in the background."

"So paramedics were there as well?" Phoenix bit down on his lower lip. "What did they say? How much damage did that guy do?"

"Not enough to leave you with brain damage, if that's what you're asking." Edgeworth gestured to Gumshoe, "It was his team, though, and he thought that paramedics might be necessary. You can thank him for the careful preparations later."

"Thank you, Sir," Gumshoe nodded.

"Your wound was caught above your right ear," Edgeworth continued, focusing his full attention on Phoenix. "He missed anything that was fatal because of his terrible aim…"

"And the fact that I turned my head," Phoenix cut in. "Otherwise he would've smashed my head in like a pumpkin."

"And I'm glad that I didn't have to see _that_ situation instead." Clearing his throat, the prosecutor continued, "In that case, that's why you don't have any permanent damage now. But, you _did_ need stitches, and the paramedics took care of that. You hadn't lost enough blood in that amount of time to suffer much damage anyway."

"But Maya said that there was blood everywhere when you carried me in."

"Stop jumping ahead of the story," Edgeworth placed a finger to his forehead. "There was blood all over your face and clothes, that's true, so that's what she had probably seen when we carried you in. Besides, she wasn't in her right state of mind. I'm certain that seeing you covered in blood sent her over the top. And there _is_ a reason that you're not in the hospital right now, Wright, and that reason is simply for your protection."

"My…protection?" Phoenix blinked.

"Yes, your protection. You see, if you had been at the hospital, chances are that the man would've come back for you, and what with the situation being what it is right now, we don't have the authority to assign much manpower to you. Since we didn't get a good look at him, there's no one we can really arrest. Besides…" Edgeworth paused long enough to give Phoenix his full attention, eyes almost narrow, "I wanted to hear the story straight from the horse's mouth. I wanted to know what had motivated someone such as _you_ to behave irrationally."

At his callous remark, Phoenix frowned and looked to his hands, which were sitting in his lap.

_Coming from the man who faked his own death, got everyone to run with it, __**and**__ can't tell me the truth about how he was following me this whole time._

It was the first time that he had realized that he was wearing his white undershirt and that his blue jacket and trench coat were nowhere in sight.

"At any rate, that's about all there is to it."

"Is that so?" Phoenix glanced up at the prosecutor, mouth still in a frown. He thought it best to wear something else, for the acolyte and detective's sakes. He smiled, "You have my thanks, Edgeworth." Moving his attention across to Maya and Gumshoe, he added, "You too, Maya, Gumshoe. Without you guys to watch my back, I'd be dead right now."

"Nick…" Maya looked uneasy.

"I know," he said. "You want to hear my side of the story, right? That's fine. I'll tell you." When the look in her eyes did not change, he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Hey, I told you already that I wouldn't keep secrets from you anymore, didn't I?" To her slow and almost convinced nod, he forced another weak smile and said, "Then there's nothing to worry about. I won't lie."

"For all of our sakes, Wright, I _hope _not." The defense attorney's gaze was drawn back to his friend and rival.

"Say what you want, Edgeworth, I have no reason to lie. Seeing as I'm just as clueless as the rest of you, I have nothing to lie _about._" Clearing his throat, Phoenix began, "I went back to my apartment to pick up Cameron. I'm sure Maya already informed you that we were all supposed to go out to dinner together."

"That she did," Edgeworth broke in. "But before we continue, I'd like to get my cast of characters straight. May I ask who Cameron is?"

Phoenix tensed, realizing that after all these years, he had never told Edgeworth he had a brother. "Cameron's my brother, Edgeworth."

For a moment, the other man looked startled, as though he had been sideswiped with something dreadful. "Your…brother?" Phoenix nodded. "You never told me you had a brother, Wright."

"I never told you a lot of things, Edgeworth. My brother and I were estranged for a long time. He was a part of another life that I used to live." Phoenix's eyes drifted to his bed comforter. "Anyway, he and I had somewhat of an argument…though I'd call it one-sided myself. I guess I dozed off for a while before waking up and realizing that Maya hadn't called, nor had Cameron come back. Somewhat worried, that's when I took a taxi over to the office."

"We were already gone by then," Edgeworth announced. "We were back at the precincts, watching your every move."

"Anyway…" Phoenix gave him a stern look for several reasons, one of them being the fact that the prosecutor hadn't made his presence known sooner, "I found a note attached to my door telling me to meet someone at Gourd Lake. It was a scribbled note that I figured was written by Cameron…no…that I had _hoped_ was written by Cameron. I'll admit that I was worried about him and…Hey, speaking of which…" he interrupted his own story to turn to Maya and ask, "Where _is_ Cameron, Maya?"

She shrugged, "I have no idea. I'd imagine he'd be home by now, I guess. After all it _is_ after two."

"In the morning?" Phoenix gaped. She gave a silent affirmation and he sighed. "Man…"

"So you didn't know who this person was?" Edgeworth spoke up, steadily nudging the attorney along to finish his story.

"No," Phoenix dully replied. "When I got to Gourd Lake, I spent a while looking for him until I came to the docks and thought that it was Cameron who was standing there. He motioned for me to get into the boat, which I did, and it wasn't until we got out into the middle of the lake that he told me that he _wasn't_ Cameron."

"Who was he, Wright?" Edgeworth pushed on.

"I don't know." Shaking his head, the injured man said, "He told me that he was looking for someone I knew who had given me information about stolen goods or…something like that…The man didn't exactly _specify_ what had been stolen other than that it was some form of documentation. He told me that it involved my family and their past mistakes."

"Do you know any such man, Nick?" Maya chirped up, hope residing in her eyes.

"Of course not. I don't associate myself with criminals. Whatever this man thought he knew, he's sadly mistaken."

"He can't be very mistaken if he's come all this way to track you down." Edgeworth rubbed his chin. "Did he tell you the name of the person he thought that you knew?"

"No. He said that he wasn't allowed to say. But he was _insistent_ that I knew this person."

"I can't believe that you just allowed yourself to wander into a boat upon mere speculation that it was your brother," the prosecutor badgered. "What kind of fool would do that?"

Phoenix felt slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, well, okay, so it **was** pretty stupid of me…"

"What else did he tell you, pal?" Phoenix was startled to hear Detective Gumshoe ask anything. It was the first real thing he had said since Edgeworth came into the picture. He had let most of the conversation dribble into the hands of the prosecutor.

"Uh…Just that it was something from my past and that I was making up for my family's mistakes." Phoenix shrugged. "That's all, really. At first, I accused him of being the one who had sent me those weird letters I've been receiving, but he adamantly denied it."

"And…you believed him?" Edgeworth asked.

"…Yeah. For some reason…I do." Phoenix lay back against his pillow, feeling exhausted and dizzy. "I really don't know what's going on."

"That's fine, Wright." With a forced cough from the prosecutor, he said, "Well then, Maya has agreed to let you stay here tonight. Detective Gumshoe and I are going to head back to the precincts and see if we can find anything about your mystery man."

"Thanks," Phoenix mumbled, feeling sleep overpowering him.

"Wright…" There was a slight pause before Edgeworth said, "Get some rest. You're injured. You'd do well to remember that." Then, his attention must've been directed to Maya (Phoenix wasn't sure because his eyes had closed between the moment that he had thanked the prosecutor and when Edgeworth had told him to rest up), because he said, "And you make sure that he stays in bed. I'll come by tomorrow to check up on the two of you and let you know if I find anything. Understand?"

"Yeah," Maya agreed. "Thank you so much, Mr. Edgeworth. You too, Detective."

"My pleasure," the good detective said.

Phoenix wasn't sure what else was being said after that. Even all of the questions he had been saving up to ask Edgeworth were slowly fading away. At the moment, sleep seemed most important. Nothing else mattered.


	6. Truce

**Disclaimer: **Own Cameron. Don't own Phoenix Wright

**A/N: **You guys didn't expect me to update this, did you? Heh, heh, heh…

Thanks for all of the reviews, guys! Sorry the updates have been slow.

* * *

**You, Me, and the War Between Us**

**Truce**

* * *

The next morning, Phoenix awoke with a headache and the slight disturbance of light shining down on his face. When his eyelids fluttered open, he slowly drew his attention to the window where a thick ray of sun poured in on him. Feeling less than jolly toward the morning, he grunted and turned over onto his side away from the sun. He covered his head with his arms, frowning. That's when he heard someone giggling.

Lessening the hold that his arms had on his head, he peeked out from in between the crooks of his elbows to see Maya Fey standing in front of her bed, a pink box in her hands. He immediately took notice of a sweet smell coming from it.

"What's that?" he groggily asked.

"Breakfast, I suppose," she replied, quickly plopping down beside him. He looked down at the box as she opened it. Two rows of frosted donuts taunted him, tiny sprinkles, which formed a pretty rainbow, all over them.

"…Donuts?" he blinked. "Where'd you get them?"

"There's a bakeshop behind the hotel," Maya reached in to grab a chocolate sprinkled donut. "They're great, Nick. Want one?" she bit into it, tearing off a piece that was too large to fit into her mouth.

Phoenix took one look at her and then returned his gaze to the donuts. He really _did_ want one, but he felt sore all over. He wasn't sure if his body would be forgiving enough if he decided to eat it.

"Save one for me," he told her. "I'll eat it later."

"I picked out about four for you," Maya closed the box with one hand, her half-eaten donut in the other. "I was pretty sure you wouldn't be able to eat right now, but I'll leave them on the table here for you." She stood up and walked over to a small coffee table. Placing the box down, she went back to eating her donut. Once she finished, she asked with a mouth full of food, "How you feel?"

"Worse than I did yesterday," he shrugged. "But at least I'm not dead." Lowering his eyes to the sheets, he mumbled, "It's all thanks to you, Gumshoe, and Edgeworth…Thanks, Maya."

She didn't say anything, and Phoenix wondered if she was paying attention at all. But when he glanced back up, he saw her glistening eyes and the hand over her mouth. He couldn't quite tell what she was thinking, but he certainly hadn't wanted to offend her. He went to say something, but she interrupted him instead.

"Nick…" he could understand her more clearly now since the donut was no longer hindering her speech. "You have no idea what's been going on, do you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean with the way you've been acting lately. It's just not like you, ya know? Taking on this whole thing by yourself, nearly getting shot, getting hit over the head with a pipe, and then all of these letters you've been receiving." Maya shook her head, "It's changed your attitude, Nick. Where's the strong minded attorney I used to know?"

He stared at her, gawking. Her words got him to thinking. _Have I __**really**__ changed that much since this all started? I don't think I've even realized it._ He gripped his sheets even tighter. "I'm sorry, Maya. What with everything going on lately, my brother barging in on me, and these guys talking about my family—"

"Things like that never got you down before," Maya argued, staring hard at him. "I lost my sister, Nick, and my mom's gone, too! My dad's dead, and I've got all these huge responsibilities as a spirit medium, and—"

"Yeah, but you're not receiving death threats," he pointed out.

"What's the difference?" Maya turned away from him, her back slouched. "I thought we were supposed to be a _team_. Teams are supposed to trust each other. If you can't trust me with your life, how am I supposed to trust you with mine?"

_Man…she really knows how to make a guy feel lower than low. I didn't realize that she was taking all of this to heart._

"I…really don't know what to say," Phoenix said after a moment. "How can I make it up to you?"

"How about not dying for starters?" Maya whirled around, frowning. "And get some help, Nick. I don't want to see this thing consume you. We're all here for you, so ask us for help, all right? You can't do everything by yourself."

"Hey, you're pushing this all off on me like **I'm** the only one at fault, here. What happened with **you,** smarty-pants, with your secret plans with Detective Gumshoe and Edgeworth?"

With that, Maya gave a half-hearted smile. "I really did want to call you, Nick, but Mr. Edgeworth wouldn't let me." Suddenly, she burst out laughing, which really surprised the defense attorney, "You should've _seen_ the way he was acting, Nick! I've never seen him so worried about anyone before. He was at the precinct, giving orders like he was at a restaurant talking to a waitress. I thought he was uptight before, but man! And he wouldn't lay off the questions to Detective Gumshoe and me. 'Where did you last see him?' 'What kind of strange behavior has he been showing, lately?' 'You in the corner! If you want to keep your job, you'll track Wright down **immediately!**' It was soooo funny, Nick! I wish you could've been there to see him!" She doubled over, laughing hysterically.

Phoenix tried to picture the thought, concocted half of a smile, and then rolled his eyes. _Edgeworth. What a moron._

"And when Detective Gumshoe and Mr. Edgeworth came in carrying you, he was screaming the whole time. I can't believe how well he composed himself in front of you last night because before you woke up, he was the most hysterical one here."

"R-Really…?" Phoenix blinked.

"Detective Gumshoe told me that he had wanted to send his unit out onto the lake to retrieve you, but Mr. Edgeworth quickly told him 'no' and took the boat out there himself before anyone could say anything. Detective Gumshoe tried to stop him, but Mr. Edgeworth said that he wouldn't let anyone else help you but him. Isn't that the funniest thing?"

Phoenix leaned his head back, still staring at her. _Why is she telling me all of this? Is she trying to tell me that Edgeworth wants to make up for that silly suicide antic that he pulled on everyone? Or maybe he's grown a heart after all? _Suddenly, he was stricken with something he knew he had to do. He threw the covers back and prepared to evict himself from the bed.

Maya stopped laughing. "Hey, just what do you think you're doing, Nick?"

"I gotta talk to Cameron," Phoenix bent over as he slowly shifted his legs towards the side of the bed, placing them on the cold carpet. "I have to make sure he's all right. I'll bet he's worried about me."

She rushed to his side and, for a moment, he feared that she was going to try and push him back into the bed. "Hey, wait, you can't just leave like this. You're not better yet, and besides, Mr. Edgeworth said that he was going to come by to check up on you. I'll get in big trouble if he finds out that I let you wander the streets by yourself." Instead of pushing him back in bed, however, he was amazed when she helped him stand on his feet. "And Cameron has my number. If he really wanted to know where you were, he could've called me."

Phoenix looked at her, skeptically, as he put an arm around her shoulder for support. "You really think Cameron's smart enough to come up with something like that?"

"Hey, that's not very nice!"

"Maya, if Edgeworth wants to see me that badly, he can meet me at my apartment."

Maya pouted. "Well, at _least_ let me come with you."

"I'm just going home, Maya. And besides, you said it yourself. If Edgeworth comes looking for me and we're both gone, he'll have the whole precinct on our behinds. Just stay here for a bit and tell him I've gone home to check up on my brother. Besides, you guys still have that tracker whatever on me, right? You can't lose me even if you wanted to."

She looked ready to object, but merely stepped back. "Just as long as you're going home, Nick. I'd better not go downstairs and see your dead body outside next to a fire hydrant where someone mowed you down with a bicycle." She was trying her hardest to look serious, but he wanted to smile at her attempt to be funny.

He reached over and pulled her into a hug.

She appeared startled, but slowly returned his embrace.

"Nick…"

"Thank you, Maya. I appreciate you not stopping me. And I also appreciate your concern and everything you've done for me."

"Hey," she laughed, pulling back from the hug. "I'm not the only one. You'd better remember that."

A vision of Edgeworth and Gumshoe arguing with each other at the Gourd Lake docks passed his mind, and the lawyer chuckled. "Yeah, I'll thank Edgeworth and Gumshoe, too." He looked around for his coat, but saw that Maya already had it in her hands.

He took it from her as she said, "Now you look like Phoenix Wright, ace bandaged."

"Enough with the wisecracks already," he lightly scolded, and ruffled her bangs with a hand. "I'll see you later, Maya."

"You'd better not do anything crazy. The second Mr. Edgeworth gets here, I'm going out to look for you."

"That's if Edgeworth doesn't beat you to the punch first."

"Oh, you'd _better_ hope that that doesn't happen. He'll pounce on you and smash you with his fist of fury. Pray that it's me who finds you first."

"Yeah, fist of fury sounds really bad. Save me, Maya. Take the fall for when Edgeworth asks where I went." He opened the door and stepped outside.

"Take the fall…!?" was the last thing he heard.

* * *

Phoenix held his heart in his mouth and his sweaty fingers rolled off of the doorknob the first time he had tried to turn it. He prayed that Cameron was inside of his apartment and hadn't gone far. Again he attempted to twist the knob and, finding himself successful, stepped inside.

All of the lights were off and his heart sank. Normally, his brother would be up by now, watching children's cartoons on the television, eating cereal on the couch. None of this was evident when the silence reached his ears.

"Cam?" he called out, a hand on the light switch.

He flipped it.

Phoenix Wright staggered back at the horrendous mess before him. His back hit the wall and he found himself unable to speak. Eyes bulging, he quickly used his eyes to paint and understand the surroundings before him.

Everything was a disaster, plants overturned, pictures smashed, papers scattered everywhere. He tore up and down his hallway, realizing that no room had been spared in the intruder's rampage. The sheets had been torn from his overturned mattress, clothes had been yanked from the dresser drawers, and the curtains had been torn from their rail. In the bathroom the sink had been left on, creating a massive flood of water on the floor. Soap had been smeared across the shower glass, and everything had been removed from the cabinets.

Shoulders slouched and mouth agape, Phoenix didn't move for quite some time. He hadn't even registered the approaching footsteps until his brother's face materialized in the bathroom mirror before him.

"Woah, Nox, some kind of natural disaster strike here? I didn't hear about this on the news."

As though broken from his trance, the younger whirled around, face red, and grabbed his brother by the collar of his thin, blue overcoat. "**YOU!** Where have **you** been!?"

"Settle down, Nox. I just got home, all right?" Cameron removed his brother's hands and stepped back to observe the mess. "What happened, anyway?" His eyes trailed to the bandage on his brother's head, "And what happened to you?"

His tongue tangled in words that he wanted to spout that very minute, Phoenix finally clamped his mouth shut and leaned back against his soap smeared sink. His hands found their way to his head, and he rubbed his temples for comfort.

"After our argument I went out to look for you," Phoenix began, his voice quiet and reasonable. "I…uh…fell and hit my head," he added, almost shamefully. "But…But, anyway, what happened with you? What do you mean that you just _now_ got home? Don't you know that it's dangerous outside late at night? We're in the _city,_ Cameron. Bad things happen in the city."

"Well, judging from how fast you're talking, I'd say you were worried about me, Nox," he flashed a grin. "How sweet."

_…He knows __**just**__ how to turn a serious conversation into stand-up comedy._ "It's _PHOENIX,_ and don't be making this out to be a joke! I mean it!"

"All right, all right," Cameron stepped out into the hall and padded into the living room. Phoenix followed. "Last night, I went and got acquainted with the surroundings of the city. I'm usually a night person anyway, so I easily got wrapped up in sightseeing. It's still early, so I wanted to get home before you got up and noticed that I was missing. That way, you wouldn't have the police out on me, or whatever it is that you lawyers do." Again, he was smiling. Phoenix was not happy.

"So you stayed out…_all_ night…sightseeing?"

"A-yup. You got some nice things here in this city."

Phoenix frowned. "Well…at least you're okay. But you could've at least _called_ me. You should know that I'm going to be worried about you if you don't come back, especially after an argument."

"Yeah, I know." Rubbing the back of his head with one hand, Cameron extended the other. "So, we cool again?"

Phoenix stared at his outstretched hand, biting down on his lip. _That Cameron. If I didn't have other things to be worried about, I might've already strangled him._ "Yeah," he said, taking his brother's hand. "We're cool. Now, you don't know who did this to my apartment, do you?"

"Nope," the older shook the lawyer's hand and then stepped back. "And I haven't been back since last night. You sure you locked the door when you left?"

"Of course I did." Then a thought struck Phoenix and his eyes widened. _That man from last night…Did __**he **__do this?_

"You look like you've had a revelation. Care to share?"

"Cameron," Phoenix looked back up, his eyes burning into the other's eyes. "You gotta tell me. What kind of trouble was our family in when we were kids?"

He watched his older brother's back straighten and look around. "Trouble? What'cha talking about?"

"Some…Someone told me that our family was in a lot of trouble when we were kids. Is that true?"

Cameron appeared thoughtful, and Phoenix could almost see the gears in his head turning. _I don't get it. He's only __**five**__ years older than me, but I can't remember anything from my past. Why is that?_

"Hmm…Nope. Nothing comes to mind. Why do you ask?"

"What about dad? Wasn't he in some kind of stock firm?"

"Stock firm?" Cameron's eyes widened, but then he laughed. "Nox, you gotta remember, I'm still injured here. I don't remember a whole lot from things like that. Bits and pieces are still intact, but a lot of it is a blur, too. I thought dad worked for some…fast food joint or something. Who's telling you all of that stuff, anyway?"

Phoenix scrunched his face. _He really…doesn't remember? This is getting me nowhere. I don't even know where I can find out what happened to mom and dad. If Grandma won't tell me, and Cameron won't tell me…_

"Don't…Don't worry about it," Phoenix mumbled. "I guess I left the door unlocked to the apartment after all."

"You're silly, Nox. But, hey, to make up for our argument last night, how about I clean house for ya?"

"You don't even know where anything goes."

"I'll figure it out. I know I'm not the brightest crayon in the tool shed, but I at least can try."

_…Brightest crayon in the box…Sharpest tool in the tool shed…I think you've gotten your clichés mixed up just a little bit._

"Fine," Phoenix agreed, not really wanting to worry about the housework anyway. "I'll let you clean the apartment. Try not to mess up anything more than what it already is, okay? I'm…I'm going to step out for a bit."

"Not a problem. I was just gonna suggest the same thing because I can't get my cleaning powers on with you watching me, Nox. You just go out and relax and I'll have this place spick and span in no time!"

Wordlessly, Phoenix turned to leave. He stood outside his apartment for a long time, pondering everything that had happened to him. He couldn't explain it—not even the smallest little bit of it.

Cameron coming back, the death threats, the men in the office yesterday, the man out on the lake, and the rampage on his apartment. He just didn't get it.

He held a balled fist under his chin and closed his eyes to think. _I've gotta get in touch with someone who knows what's going on—someone who's a mine field of information. I don't know who else I can turn to. Cameron can't be relied upon and Grandma won't crack. I don't know where mom is living and dad's been gone for a really long time. How on earth does this have to do with my family? What trouble did they get themselves into that I don't remember?_

Inwardly, he began to run though his mind a list of people he could turn to. _Maya wouldn't know anything about it, and neither would Gumshoe. As for Edgeworth, I'm still a little sore with him for the whole "suicide" thing he pulled. Cameron and Grandma aren't gonna crack until I come up with some new evidence to hit them with. But in order to get that kind of evidence, I have to have a reliable source, first. …Back to square one. All right, people in the firm around me. _

He closed his eyes and pondered harder.

_This might be a bit of a stretch…but Grossberg might know something about a stock firm, and maybe if there was any trouble with it, though I doubt he'd know about my family. We didn't even live here at the time._

"I don't have any other choice. I think I'm gonna have to pay a visit to the old attorney. Who knows? He might have the clue I need to proceed on this case."

* * *

It was about ten in the morning when Phoenix found himself in front of the same set of doors he had visited almost a year before. He held his breath as he pushed himself in through the doors, not sure what to expect, or even what to ask.

But, just as he had left them last, the office looked almost exactly the same—even down to the discolored square on the wall where Marvin Grossberg's gaudy painting had once hung. A musty smell made Phoenix's nose twitch, and he used the back of his hand to rub it until the sensation went away.

Mr. Grossberg himself was nowhere in sight, which was not unusual for the large fellow. He liked to sneak up on people, though the young attorney wasn't sure why.

_I'll just wait here until he gets back._

"A--------HEEEEEEEEEEM!"

"GAH!"

Tripping over himself, Phoenix stumbled around in a sloppy circle and stared up at a large man in an unattractive rusty orange suit, nose twitching.

"Why, the days of my youth, like the scent of fresh lemons, you see, it's Mr. Wright. Well, hello there, Mr. Wright. I haven't seen you in a long time, my friend. What brings you here all of a sudden?"

Grabbing his racing heart, Phoenix frowned at the man's insensitive behavior toward scaring the attorney, and then not even _realizing_ it.

"M…Mr. Grossberg. You startled me."

"Oh, well I apologize for that, m'boy. That hadn't been my intention, but you must understand that I'm just as surprised to see you. It's been, what, a year now? I haven't seen you since that incident with Edgeworth and von Karma. I heard that it was a success though, yes? How _is_ Mr. Edgeworth these days? I heard that he's stopped coming to court."

Wishing to refrain himself from calling his longtime friend every name in the book and then some, Phoenix maintained a forced smile and said, "Well, at least he's not dead."

Grossberg offered up a confused stare, but Phoenix kept his smile.

"I…I see. Well then, in that case, he's not the reason you came by today, is it?"

"No," Phoenix took a seat in the other man's leather recliner, and stared up at the attorney. "I'm actually working on a case, Mr. Grossberg, and I find myself stumped. Maybe you can help me?"

"Well, I don't know how I can be of any assistance, but I certainly will try my best. What seems to be the problem, m'boy?"

"What do you know about…stock firms?"

For a moment, the old attorney appeared shocked at such a question, but then turned his head toward his shining desk. "Stock firms, you say? What about them?"

"I'm sure you've noticed the bandage around my head."

"Yes, now that you mention it. I was going to ask myself, but I didn't want to appear nosy."

"Well, yesterday, two men came into my office and were asking about my family and about a stock firm. Then, last night, I was accosted by a man who told me that I knew someone who had stolen some documentation from his people. I told him I didn't know any such person, and…you can see how that turned out."

"Yes, yes, I see," Grossberg leaned down to scrutinize Phoenix carefully.

"Then this morning I came home to find my apartment broken into and trashed."

"Trashed? So you didn't spend the night at your apartment?"

"No."

"Do you have any idea who did it?"

"I was thinking it was the same person who gave me this lump. Oh, and I've left out another detail. Recently, I've been receiving these death threats in the mail. I accused the man who hit me of sending them, but he seemed totally oblivious."

"You think it's a trap, m'boy?"

Phoenix leaned back in the recliner. "No, I think he's being honest. Don't ask me why, but it's a gut feeling I have. He told me everything else, so why lie to me about something as trivial as letters?"

"True…" Mr. Grossberg turned and slowly walked around to his desk. "So this is how you've been spending your days, eh, Mr. Wright?"

"I'd rather be spending them doing something else. What are your thoughts, Mr. Grossberg?"

"Hmm…Nothing major about the stock firms has happened in this district, I'll tell you, but there's always scandals going on within them. However, you say that your family was involved. Can you tell me how?"

"I haven't the slightest clue. You see, I left my parents when I was very young and have spent the remainder of my years with my grandmother, but she won't leak a word about it."

"She's probably just trying to protect you if anything. But if it's something this serious that it's come to physical violence, trying to consult her wouldn't be such a bad idea."

Phoenix chewed on the prospect for a moment. _That's very true. And I was also in a bad state of mind this morning. Maybe I'll try hitting Cameron up again for some details later. It's about all I can do now._

"M'boy," the older attorney continued, "I must say, I don't think you know this, but Mr. Redd White didn't start off rich himself."

"Redd White?" Phoenix couldn't believe that he was hearing such a name after all this time.

"Yes. Redd White started off as poor and weak as you and I first had. He found his connections through a stock firm, actually."

"Really? That's interesting," but in all truth, Phoenix didn't really care. The name still hit a nail every time he heard it and he immediately thought back to the night when Mia had died.

"I'm afraid I don't know all of the details, though. That would be up von Karma's alley. Rumors were always circling that von Karma was flirting with luck in the stock markets. I believe that even Gregory Edgeworth knew something, too, though I couldn't tell you what."

The last part piqued Phoenix's attention. "Gregory? You mean…"

"The very one and the same, I'd say. If your family was involved in the stock firm for whatever reason, those two would be the ones to ask." Then Grossberg fidgeted, "Though I doubt you can find a way to channel Gregory to ask that yourself."

"Uh-huh, and von Karma hates my guts."

"Well…"

Phoenix sat back to think on it longer. "So, you're saying that if anyone knew anything about my family and the stock firm, it would have to be von Karma. …Am I right?"

"Mr. Redd White came into power only eleven years ago. If this was during your childhood, then that would have been too late for him to have known anything. However, Mr. von Karma and Gregory Edgeworth were dealing with the stock firms for a long time. Since you can't ask Gregory directly, I'd ask von Karma."

The younger attorney's eyes were wide and his jaw had dropped. He was inattentively shaking his head and only continued faster and faster as the name "Manfred von Karma" circled around his head.

"S-Shouldn't I just ask Miles Edgeworth directly? It was his dad, so he might know something."

Grossberg's moustache twitched and he shook his head. "I believe he's about your age, right? He would've been too young to know anything."

_Figures._ "So, if I want to know anything, I'm gonna have to visit von Karma directly, is that it?"

"Yes, I suppose so. I know it pains you to hear this. Manfred von Karma is definitely not one I'd like to see more than I have to, or even if I had to. But, I believe he's the only way you'll get answers, m'boy."

Like a big weight had attached itself to him, the younger attorney sunk into the chair. "Why can't anything ever be _easy?_"

"I don't envy you, Mr. Wright. Please, let me know how it turns out."

Phoenix forced himself off of the recliner. _Time to die, I suppose._

* * *

Manfred von Karma was just as scary as the young man remembered, with eyes that would give anybody nightmares, and a wicked smile that bared fangs rather than teeth. He had managed to keep himself tidy, even though he was in prison, but the jailer's uniform didn't seem to suit him. Somehow, Phoenix would've preferred to see him in a suit.

He sat there, on the other side of the glass, phone in hand, and glowered at the man who had sent him there in the first place.

At first, von Karma had taken one look at who had summoned him and turned to walk away. Had it not been for the guard, Phoenix was sure he would have.

"The _nerve_ you have coming to see me, you worthless, slimy boy."

_Nice to see you too, von Karma. _"I promise I won't take up much of your time."

"Just seeing you at _all_ is a waste of my time, Wright. Why are you here?"

Phoenix sat there, unmoving, for a moment, just staring at von Karma. He believed it was the very first time he had been able to stare the man straight in the eye without the elder doing something like pointing a finger or electrocuting him.

"I want to know about a stock firm."

von Karma's eyes narrowed, and he snarled. "You've come all the way down here to waste my precious time to ask about a _stock firm?_"

"I want to know if my family was involved in the stock firm," Phoenix said.

"Oh? And who might _they_ be, Wright?"

The younger opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly realized that he couldn't. _Mom's name was…something like Cath…but, I completely forgot dad's name. I always just called him "dad." How? How could I forget who they are?_

"What's the matter, Wright? Cat got your tongue?" von Karma jeered and then cocked his head to one side, "Or maybe you don't have a family at all and you're just trying to find a way to get information from me, am I right?"

Phoenix quickly lowered his head, ignoring as the other man taunted him, and tried his hardest to remember his father's name.

_I can't __**believe**__ that I've forgotten dad's name. How careless of me!_

"Mr. Wright."

Phoenix glanced up, his concentration broken. "Uh…"

"Isn't it a little _selfish_ of you to ask me to help you after you've taken my life from me?"

Phoenix stared at him, mouth agape. _Well, you should've thought about the consequences before killing Edgeworth and Hammond, right, von Karma? _But instead, all he could say was, "I'm sorry."

"You little coward," the old prosecutor's eyes narrowed in anger. "You're _sorry?_ How pathetic!"

The younger jolted back as von Karma lunged for the glass. Arched eyebrows curtained his eyes, and his white fist pounded against the table. Phoenix scooted his chair further back, even though the prosecutor could not reach him.

"Mr. von Karma," Phoenix began after a moment. "Please, about the stock firm—"

"Are you _stupid, _Wright? I wouldn't tell you anything even if it granted me a ticket out of this hellhole. Now, get out of here before I have you thrown out!" With that, his chair screeched back and von Karma had lifted himself up, a guard taking him by the shoulder.

Phoenix silently watched them walk away, and he let a breath escape after he was left alone.

* * *

Dejected, the defense attorney walked back to the hotel where Maya was staying. He shuffled his feet and kicked at a paper bag flying by. He growled when his cell phone started to ring and he fished it out of his coat pocket. He carelessly glanced at the number and flipped open the lid.

"Wright here."

_"Nick, is that you?"_

"Yeah. Maya? What's going on?"

_"Where are you?"_

"I'm heading back to your place right now. Why?"

_"Mr. Edgeworth called and found out that you weren't here. He was absolutely furious."_

Phoenix inwardly groaned and his eyes turned toward a group of kids walking toward him.

"Well…"

Maya cut him off, _"He wants you to come by his apartment. It's on 100__th__ block, in the Vineyard district."_

Phoenix drew in breath and his eyes narrowed. _That's a rich neighborhood. Figures he'd get a rich apartment to go along with his rich attitude._ "That's only a few minutes from here. What's the number of his apartment?"

_"I think he said 208B. It's the larger one on the top floor…or…so he said…"_

"All right, I'll be over there shortly. I'll let you know when I'm heading back."

_"Good luck, Nick. He sounded __**really**__ angry."_

"I can only imagine," Phoenix replied before hanging up.

* * *

Phoenix stood outside the door of Miles Edgeworth's humble abode. He gawked at the raspberry colors and immediately thought of how it suited the prosecutor perfectly. Even the finishing on the door was amazing. It wasn't everyday you could ask for that kind of oak to be brandished on a simple apartment. But Edgeworth's place was _anything_ but _simple._

_I'm even afraid to ring the doorbell. Getting my fingerprints all over the place will just make him angry. I wonder what it's like inside…_

Phoenix stepped back to take a look at some of the apartments over. No, none of them looked as nice as Edgeworth's. They couldn't even compare.

_He certainly knows how to budget his money. I don't even make enough to do that. Man…_

He continued to glance around until he was taken aback by the sound of a shrill bark coming from within. Jumping, Phoenix whirled his head around to the opening door, Edgeworth's head poking through.

The prosecutor didn't waste a breath before saying, "Just how long were you planning to stay out here, Wright?"

"You…You knew I was out here?"

"I _have_ a _window,_ you know. I've been waiting for you to knock." The barking behind Edgeworth continued and he turned his head to look inside. "Go on, Cocoa. Go lie down."

Phoenix cocked an eyebrow. _Cocoa?_

Edgeworth repeated himself a couple more times before the barking stopped and the prosecutor let his door swing open freely. He stepped back, allowing Phoenix to come in.

"You can put your coat up on the rack over there," Edgeworth pointed out. Phoenix took a moment to study him. He wasn't wearing his normal trademark coat, just the black vest and white dress shirt from underneath. And he wasn't wearing any shoes, just plain black socks. When Phoenix looked to the coat rack, he realized that both the coat and the shoes had been placed there.

Phoenix walked over to the rack, removed his coat and his shoes, and placed them next to Edgeworth's things.

_I'm not used to seeing him dress so casually. In court, he always looks so professional._

When Phoenix turned, Edgeworth had already left his side and gone to lean over something that the attorney couldn't quite see. Edgeworth raised his hand and roused it through something, all the while of chuckling and mumbling things. Wordlessly, Phoenix waited a little while longer before the prosecutor stood and revealed a small pillow of fluff, nestled in between blankets on top of a doggy bed.

"…That your dog?" the attorney blinked.

"Yes."

"I never knew you liked animals."

"I believe you said this before, so I'll just repeat it for emphasis. There are a lot of things I haven't told you about me, Wright."

Phoenix thought about this for a moment before nodding and said, "Touché."

Another bout of silence passed between them before Edgeworth padded over to the other man, crossing his arms over his chest. "I thought I made it very clear that you were to stay in bed."

"I can't just stay in bed and wait for this guy to do something to me, Edgeworth." Phoenix's eyebrows furrowed, "When I arrived at home this morning, my entire apartment had been trashed."

"Really?" the other man was genuinely surprised.

"Yes, really. Cameron arrived at home after me and neither of us knew who did it. I'm willing to place my bets on that guy who attacked me last night."

"What for? To find that documentation he believes you have?"

"Possibly. I'm sure he knows I'm not dead, Edgeworth. I doubt he's too happy about that."

Edgeworth looked away, rubbing his chin. He appeared to be in deep thought, but spoke nothing of it. Phoenix stared at him a while longer, anger welling up inside of him. Here stood a man he believed had killed himself, and had even gotten the police in on his silly little scandal. And all for what? For a few lost battles in court? For a few revelations that changed his entire outlook on life?

Phoenix couldn't get it.

"I thought you were dead," he blurted out.

Edgeworth's eyes drifted over to the attorney, but he did not move otherwise.

Phoenix hung his head and began to pace back and forth. "I thought that…Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chose death…" he raised his eyes to meet the prosecutor's, "…and that I was never going to see you again."

"Wright—"

"You even went as far as to involve Detective Gumshoe, spouting all of those lies like how you have left a suicide note and how there had been an article in the paper. If I had had _half_ of a brain and wasn't in the middle of dealing with these life threatening letters, I would've looked it up myself and realized that none of it was ever true!" Phoenix was so worked up at this point, he couldn't stop once he had started, "I thought that…I thought that after that case with Gant, you understood the meaning of teamwork, and that you couldn't figure out things by yourself! And when I had found out that you were dead, I didn't know _what_ to think! The only thing I _could _think was that I had failed to save you!

"And to figure it all now, you only left because you couldn't _handle_ the truth! You couldn't handle that all of your victories were really your losses, and so you ran away with your tail between your legs! And if that's the case now, then maybe you should have never come back from the dead, Edgeworth! I—" eyes trailing back to the prosecutor, Phoenix stopped when he realized that the other man was no longer facing him, and that his arms were hugging his body tightly. Edgeworth said nothing, but kept his back to Phoenix while the attorney ranted. "Uh…Edgeworth?"

"I never knew you felt such hatred for me, Wright."

"I thought that you felt the same way." Phoenix waited for the other to turn back around. He didn't. "Are you trying to tell me that it's all one-sided?"

"Wright," Edgeworth finally turned his body to the side, and though he gave Phoenix a hard stare, there was something in his eyes that made him appear so sad. "I won't deny that what you say is true. Even my reason for leaving. The truth is a hard thing to swallow. But…you, yourself, can't say that you're not like me."

"Huh?" Phoenix jolted, and Edgeworth seated himself on his red, velvet couch.

"You heard me. You're running away, too."

Inattentively, Phoenix joined him on the couch. "What do you mean that I'm like you?"

"Look at yourself now. You've been faced with a predicament that's testing your entire being. If what you're saying is true, your family has a lot to do with this, and you're receiving the backlash. However…" Edgeworth leaned into his couch and stared up at the ceiling where a fan circled overhead, "…your attitude has changed."

"You're not the first to say that," Phoenix mumbled, bitterly.

"Then you agree that this _has_ changed you. You've let the weight of all of this pressure bring you down. You're no better than me, Wright. I may have run away, but you're _pushing_ everyone away."

"Better than running away and waiting for the situation to take care of itself." At that remark, Phoenix bit his tongue, expecting a none-too-pleasant reply. He was shocked when Edgeworth began to chuckle.

"I suppose so. You're dealing with the problem so adversely you've nearly died for it. Twice, I might add."

Puffing his cheeks out, Phoenix said, "Yeah, whatever."

"Wright, I left and spent all of this time in Germany. I can't tell you what I was waiting for, because even _I_ didn't know what I was waiting for."

"Why Germany?"

"Well, von Karma took me there when I lived with him. There are some relatives he has back there, so I became acquainted with the place. It's quite nice, I might add. But, anyway, I spent all of my time there, doing nothing, really. Just…waiting."

"Waiting?"

"Yes, waiting. Trying to collect my thoughts, come to terms that my mentor had killed my father, get past what all of the tabloids had written about me, and what the public thought of me. I was waiting for all of it."

"You even…left me behind to go search for that? You left your friends and your career behind to search for that?"

"Yes." Edgeworth resumed his gaze on the other man, a smile across his face. It was quite a rarity, Phoenix realized. "I know what you and the others said to me before I left, but it wasn't going to change anything until I found it all out for myself. Then, a few weeks ago, something happened to me."

"What's that?"

"The part of Germany I stayed in has been enduring a lot of rain as of lately. I was currently staying in a condo that one of von Karma's acquaintances owns, but he allowed me to temporarily live there. Anyway, I was walking back to the condo one afternoon when I passed by an alley. From within I could hear a low whimper. I was curious, so I ventured into the back. There were boxes, trash bags, and a dumpster hiding beneath cardboard, but I could still hear the whimpering.

"I pulled the boxes aside and moved the trash bags until I spotted a brightly colored box and the lid beside it. Inside was a golden haired Pomeranian with a bow around its neck. To think, this puppy had been someone's present and that person abandoned the dog in an alley." Phoenix took a second to recompose himself, visions of a small dog, decorated in bows and bright colors, shoved out into the rain to fend for itself. Whoever had done such a thing deserved to be punished without question. "I know what you're thinking, Wright. And I'd have to agree with you. What a horrible thing to put an animal through.

"I took the dog out of the box and put him in my jacket to get him out of the rain. He shivered and whined the whole time, so I quickly hurried home. When I got there, I set him down and grabbed some towels to dry him off with. I swear, I've never seen an animal so defenseless. His matted fur hung from his body, drenched with water. The bow around his neck drooped so sadly. He continued to shiver even as I dried him and held him close to the fire.

"I thought he was going to die, he was so weak. I took him to the vet and they treated him. Who knows how long the dog had been left out in the rain, and the vet estimated him to be only about nine to ten weeks old. Clearly not enough time for a puppy of his size and age to know what goes on in the real world. They released him and I cared for him for the rest of that week.

"But I don't have time to take care of dogs or animals like that. And it wasn't my dog to begin with. So after about four days of him living with me, I let him go on a sidewalk. I began to walk one way, and expected him to go somewhere else."

Phoenix stared a moment, realizing the contradiction in Edgeworth's story, "So, it wasn't okay for those people to abandon the dog in the alley, but it was okay for you to leave him on a street corner?"

The prosecutor fidgeted, "Yes, well, you're right. It wasn't that I thought that it was…_okay…_I thought that if someone had spotted him, they would pick him up and take him home with them."

"That's very wishful thinking, Edgeworth. Did the dog even have tags or anything?"

"Yes, he did. I'm sure that the people who bought the dog as a gift had given them to him. And…I know that it's wishful thinking. I was hoping that it would work out for him, though."

"You could've left him at the pound or something."

"A pound?" the other blinked, as though the thought had never occurred to him before. "Yes, I could've, but the pound…it's like…being in jail…" he trailed off and Phoenix watched his face.

_His face. He made that face before when he was detention last year. He must be thinking that the pound is like the detention he was in. It's there to keep you in there, and there's a possibility of you __**maybe**__ getting out. Edgeworth…_

"So if the dog had tags, why not return him to his owners?"  
"Why would I when it was clear that _they_ were the ones who abandoned him in the first place?"

"I just think that it's weird that they would go through all the trouble of getting him a name collar just to throw him out into the alley," Phoenix stared at Edgeworth, skeptically. _Edgeworth knows this, too. There's a __**real**__ reason he didn't take the dog back or even drop him off at the pound._

"Anyway," Edgeworth continued, changing the subject abruptly. "I left him on the street corner, hoping that someone would spot him and pick him up. I made my way through the crowds and down to the other end of the town. From behind, I could hear tiny scrapes across the pavement. I took a quick look back and realized that the dog had been following me."

Phoenix found himself smiling. Edgeworth noticed, too.

"Wipe that stupid smile off your face, Wright!"

"Sorry, sorry, it's just such a cute story."

"Whatever. Anyway, I continued until I reached the top of the steps that led into the subway. I began to slowly descend the steps, still listening to the sound of soft scraping. When I reached the bottom, I saw the shadow of the dog at the top, looking down at me. He was still just a newborn and probably had no experience in climbing steps, so I thought that he was just going to give up and go away. It seemed that he was going to do just that, too, but he reared back and hopped down onto the first step. I was amazed, watching him slowly hop down each step.

When he got to the bottom, he and I stared at each other. I couldn't believe the dog had followed me this far, so I turned and walked toward the exit of the subway."

"What?" Phoenix blinked. "You just _left_ the dog there? Edgeworth, you…"

"Let me finish my story before you criticize me, Wright. I'd appreciate that best. I left the subway and ended up down at a park, the dog still following me. By this time, I knew that I wasn't going to be able to shake the dog unless I just left him somewhere. Inside the park were some bathrooms that had doors. I walked inside and closed the door behind me. Several of the stalls were occupied and people were moving in and out. I stood near the sink and mirrors, but watched the bottom of the door carefully.

"Sure enough, a small shadow appeared underneath and I bit my lip, carefully pondering over this. I'd say about ten or fifteen minutes passed and that dog was still by the door. He wasn't going to leave or just give up. That dog was going to follow me wherever he could and wasn't going to settle for any less. That truly was a loyal dog.

"Shortly after that, a man opened the door, but I could see that his eyes were moving back and forth. He had to have seen the dog, I'm sure, and he saw me standing around doing nothing. He moved past me, took care of his business, and came back to find me still standing there. He wordlessly exited, but I saw him take another look at the dog. He let the door shut, but came back about five minutes later. I knew that he had caught on to what was going on.

"He approached me and told me that the dog had been waiting for twenty minutes outside the door. He had watched me walk inside and never come out. So then he asked me if the dog belonged to me."

Edgeworth intentionally stopped, waiting for a reaction from the other. He ended it with a big smile and Phoenix leaned forward.

"And? What did you say?"

"About what?"

"You _know_ about what! What did you tell him about the dog?"

Edgeworth shot a glance over at the sleeping bundle across his living room. His big smile had diminished, but the look he held now was of absolute love and adoration. Phoenix couldn't believe he was seeing the man so…sentimental.

"I told him 'yes.'" Phoenix found a smile breaking at his own lips too. "I went outside, took the dog in my arms, and carried him back to the apartment. From that point on, I began to treat him like my own dog. I groomed him, bought him a bed, and tried to make him as comfortable as possible. One day, before it got too late, I took him for a walk and we happened to pass by the alley I had first found him in.

"There was some rustling going on in there, so I stopped to take a look. From within, I could see a woman with brown hair and a taller man who was bald. I watched them for a moment as they were tearing things apart. She suddenly grabbed a hold of the box I had found the puppy in and her boyfriend made some kind of remark about 'it not being here.'

"They happened to turn and see me with the dog, leash in hand. She asked me where I had gotten the dog and I asked what concern it was to her. She told me that her parents had spent quite a pretty penny on a golden Pomeranian, same as the one I was with now. She had wanted a car for her sixteenth birthday instead and was deeply offended when they had presented to her a dog.

"I asked if she was the one who had abandoned it in the alley, and she told me that she was. I then asked why she would be looking for a dog almost two weeks later, knowing that it would either be gone or dead." Edgeworth laughed, "She wasn't a bright soul, I'm afraid. I told her that the dog I had now was one and the same. She demanded that I give it back to her."

"What?" Phoenix was in disbelief. How could someone _do that_ to a poor animal? "And now she wanted it back? What did you say?"

"I told her that she was unfit to be a pet owner and she told me that that was okay. 'I'm just going to sell him to some people for what my parents paid for him so that I can afford the down payment on that car I wanted.' I told her that that was too bad. The dog was mine now and she had no proof of ever owning the dog. She wasn't happy to hear that and her boyfriend tried to be as intimidating as possible."

"What? By looming over you and throwing a balled fist into an open one? Those kinds of tactics?"

Edgeworth gave a half smile. "You'd be about right there, Wright. I told them to do their worst. I was a prosecutor who would _gladly_ handle a case against them. When I revealed my name, their faces turned as white as sheets. I suppose they had heard of the demon prosecutor after all. Of course, when you have a reputation being waved around like a flag by the von Karmas, I guess that that made me all the more terrifying. They fled from the alley without another word and that was the last I saw of them."

Edgeworth finished his story and got up from the couch. He kneeled down by the dog's bed and ruffled his fur.

"Did you end up keeping the dog's name from on the tag then?"

"Yeah."

"So…the dog's name is…_Cocoa,_ huh? Doesn't exactly make sense, considering it's golden haired and not brown."

Edgeworth turned his head just enough to stare the other man down, "Hey, I didn't _name_ the dog, Wright."

"Then why did you keep with the name given to him?"

"Well…I…"

"That's what I thought."

"Keep your comments to yourself."

Phoenix leaned back into the seat. "So then let me guess. You were talking to Gumshoe and he told you that I've been a bad boy lately and that's why you came back."

"You're so presumptuous. But I'll give you credit this time." Edgeworth walked back toward the couch, but stood above the attorney instead of sitting next to him. "Do you know _why_ I told you that story, Wright?"

"Uh…because…because you had a new dog and you wanted to share?"

"You know me by now. I don't share trivial matters. I told you that story because that dog is what finally ended my waiting." Phoenix looked up, realizing that the prosecutor was more than serious. "That dog needed me and wasn't going to let me go. I couldn't walk away from it, just like I couldn't walk away from you or everything going on here. Funny as it sounds, that dog taught me a great deal of things. When Detective Gumshoe told me what was happening to you, I knew you couldn't handle things alone. I had to help you, like you helped me."

Phoenix lowered his head, a wry smile across his face. Even as he spoke, his words were breaking, "So…that's what you learned…eh, Edgeworth?"

"You can't win this alone, Wright. I'm here to teach you the definition of 'teamwork.'"

_T-Teamwork? _The wheels in Phoenix's head were spinning, and his eyes opened wide. _That's right, Lana said that to him the very last time we saw each other. Teamwork…_ "Teamwork…You think I lack teamwork?"

"Judging by how you've handled the last few days, I'd have to say so."

"Heh, look who is talking." Phoenix stood up, standing across from the prosecutor. "A year ago, you would've scoffed at the idea. It would've been a blow to your 'perfect record.' But now…"

"That doesn't matter, Wright."

"Oh, but it does. You left the country to escape it. You come back now and speak of 'teamwork.'" Phoenix narrowed his eyes and held out his hand. "So now, what I want to know, Miles Edgeworth, is if you're in it to be in it, or if you're in it to win it!"

Edgeworth took a startled step backwards, "W-What?"

"I don't need someone who is going to be there to try and defeat me in court. To try and salvage what's left of their 'perfect record.' I need someone who cares about the people they're defending—the people they're trying to save. I can't deal with a prosecutor who brings his or her own personal problems onto the battlefield. People who unnecessarily are involved are the only ones who suffer. My family is at stake here. _I'm_ at stake here. I'm not going to lie to you, I'm scared stiff." Phoenix sighed and lowered his eyes. "I _do_ want help, but I don't want to endanger anyone. When I heard that you had died, I felt like the biggest failure on the planet."

"Wright…"

"And now the tables have turned and _I'm_ the one in trouble here. You came through for me last night, Edgeworth. You _saved_ my life, along with Maya and Gumshoe. But can I count on you until the very end? Is _that_ what you're telling me here?" Phoenix took a couple steps past Edgeworth until the doggy bed was right underneath him.

Cocoa's ears twitched and the small head of the dog slightly shifted so that little eyes were staring up at him, curiously. He was so cute, just curled up in a ball like that. Phoenix couldn't even begin to imagine what the dog had felt like, wrapped up in a present with a delightful bow around its neck, meant to make someone happy, but, instead, thrown out with the trash useless and unloved. It made him angry and tearful all at the same time.

"This dog loves you, Edgeworth. Protect him."

Suddenly, a hand came down on Phoenix's shoulder. The defense attorney's head turned just enough to see the smile on his friend's face.

"I'll protect you, too."

Phoenix chuckled, turned, and gave Edgeworth a tight hug.

"I'm glad you're not dead," he said. "Welcome back."

"It's good to be back," he heard Edgeworth say. "This time, I've got a few new tricks up my sleeve. I'd like to test them out in the courtroom. First, let's start by teaching your assailants that they've messed with the wrong attorney team."

Phoenix pulled back and grabbed Edgeworth's hand.

"So you're a part of the team then?"

Smile breaking even wider, Edgeworth pumped the other man's hand once and replied, "To the end."

* * *

Yay. How joyful.

(Gumshoe-sama sits in his velvety recliner, a large fur ball in his lap. He is smiling, evilly.)

"I have always wanted a Cocoa of my very own, to pet and to hold and to love and to—"

Gumshoe-sama! Is that **Edgeworth's** Pomeranian!?

(Gumshoe-sama snorts)

"What does it matter? He's always in court anyway. Besides, I'm here to complain about your overusing of the name 'Cocoa.'"

Uh…I…crap…he's right. I used Cocoa in my FFVII story too…

(Gumshoe-sama snaps his fingers, causing the whole room to rumble from his might and diligence)

"Exactly as I thought! You can say…NOSSING! Now then! Bring me some cherry lemonade!"

Yes, Gumshoe-sama.

(Hope you guys liked the chapter. Please RnR.)

ML


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